Just a Spoonful of Sugar
by Yva J
Summary: Through an unusual twist of fate, Willy Wonka discovers that even when being stalked by a crazed female fan of his, he is not alone. Somewhere out there is someone who knows just how he feels.
1. Prologue: A New Life

_Author's Note: Before reading this story, I want to make this perfectly clear in these notes that this is not going to romanticize the issue of stalking. I have decided to make this a very strong T-Rated story, but I will advise younger people or those who are really sensitive about certain issues to either not read this, or do so with discretion. While there is some optimism later on in this story between the two main protagonists (Willy and Tamara), the overall feel is a bit darker than some of my other Wonka stories. At the same instance, Willy Wonka will never be presented as a stalker, and I find the whole idea of him stalking anyone to be a pretty preposterous notion._

_Some of my antagonists here are downright creepy. Having gone through a breakup that sort of correlated with some of the fears that these characters experience, I am sort of drawing back into my own issues as a way to bring this story to you. If this gives you the chills while reading it, imagine what it did to me while I was writing it. Along those same lines, I really have to give a shout out to Ajestice with my thanks for helping with the title of this piece, but also supporting me along with writing it. The emails and the brainstorming sessions really did help._

_This is a Wilder Wonka story, it is multi-chaptered and will no doubt be a longer story like 'The Everlasting Gobstopper' and 'The World Beyond'. If there are similarities to Depp's portrayal then that is purely coincidental. Wilder Wonka is for me, the more reassuring of the two characterizations, so his is the one that I generally tend to use. Please don't ask me what Wonka I'm writing, check my profile and the story synopsis, it's generally there._

_If you decide to delve into this story, please keep in mind that this story does has a little romance, a lot of friendship, a ton of angst and a little bit of suspense moments as well. While many of my Wonka stories have elements of romance, they are not entirely romance stories. I don't ever really write strictly romance here. I do think that it will not be more intense (as far as violence and scary imagery) than what people see on primetime television shows, so it should be OK._

_If you decide to read it, please review._

_Chapter edited on April 14, 2008._

* * *

**Just a Spoonful of Sugar**

By: Yva J.

**Prologue: A New Life**

Tamara Jenkins was twenty-four-when she left her parents home to move into her own place. Because times were tough and money was tight, she would soon discover that living on her own would not reap the financial stability that she wished for. Soon after she had found herself settled in this new apartment, she discovered that it would be imperative for her to have a roommate, someone who could share the expenses and help her with the issues of running a household.

Tamara was shorter than most women her age; in fact, she was only a meter and a half tall, which made her look much younger than she actually was. After moving to this town, she discovered that her stature had made it close to impossible for her to get a good-paying job in the field that she was trained in.

Since she had also recently broken up with her boyfriend, things had been rather trying for her. Neil Kirkwood had not taken this news particularly well and instead of accepting her choice, he flew into a jealous rage. He even went so far as to ask her how many men she had slept with and what sort of activities had she partaken in when they had been dating.

Needless to say, the breakup had been one of the less pleasant experiences in her life. Neil was a good three years her senior and after it happened, he had started to follow her around town. He would call her family, and even make anonymous threats at her workplace. It seemed more than clear that she was beginning to feel very insecure in her own skin. The incessant fears caused her undue stress as well as forced her to incessantly look over her shoulder. What eventually made the decision to leave Somerdale once and for all, was being fired from her job.

Regardless of what other people had told her, she knew deep down inside that she would never forget what her ex-boyfriend's parting words had been. If she were to even try and get into another relationship, then he would 'bury her'. These threats had been real and instead of continuing to live with that form of uncertainty, she relocated to a place where no one knew her name and viewed her as just another face in the crowd.

After having moved, she discovered that the town she had relocated to had high unemployment, yet it felt as though it were a safe enough option. It was also the same town where the famed Wonka Chocolate Factory was located.

In town, Tamara managed to secure a part-time job at Bill's Candy Shop. Although, her financial situation was an overt rationale for getting a roommate, she also felt increasingly unsafe living on her own.

Although logic argued that Neil would never think to look for her here, her nervousness was still evident. These uncertainties had reached the point that she had contemplated going and signing up for self-defense classes as well as seeking counsel from the local women's center.

Even after having done that, there was nothing that she could do to conceal the emotional fears that she still had about her ex-boyfriend lurking around the next corner and waiting to spring on her. His behavior bordered on psycho-terror and thus left her feeling afraid of her own shadow.

All of these components left Tamara to begin her search for a new roommate among a crop full of strangers. She was determined to find another woman who was about her age and remotely normal. She did not like the idea of choosing someone she did not know, but this was ultimately her only option.

After the ad was placed, she found herself filtering through a small stack of names and phone numbers in the hopes of finding the person who would fit the bill.

Her search eventually led her to a twenty-eight-year-old woman named Belinda Hutchinson. Belinda was fresh out of college with a degree in interior design. To Tamara, it seemed almost ironic that the other woman had managed to secure a job in her field, but that was precisely what had happened. Thinking that this was someone Tamara could share an apartment with, she soon agreed and Belinda moved in.

At first, the older of the two women seemed nice enough, she was neat and orderly and always seemed willing to give Tamara a helping hand with various tasks around the house. It was starting to look as though she had found the most perfect roommate that anyone could have asked for. Of course, she would ultimately discover that a neat living room and a pristine kitchen were nothing compared to what Belinda had been doing behind closed doors.

For about two months, everything seemed to go along like clockwork; the two women hit it off and were compatible with one another. Belinda was often away, only to come home at night, and Tamara had sporadic hours at the candy store.

Although Bill could not pay as much as he would have liked, the job was the most fun and she enjoyed every minute that she spent there. The candy seller looked to be several years older than she was, and always seemed to be in a positive mood. His overall stance emanated an undying cheerfulness, even in the wake of things having gone completely wrong.

After only a short time working there, Tamara soon discovered that contrary to the pay not being the best, there existed far more to the job than how much money she made. She absolutely loved working at the old-fashioned candy store, and her love of sweets grew by leaps and bounds as a result. In fact, she was always ready and willing to try every kind of candy that there was.

Bill actually let her try the new flavors so that she could act as an advisor to their customers. "You have a great sense of taste, Tamara, and in this business, that will take you far," Bill had often told her. She loved that feeling of optimism and soon discovered that her sense of taste did somehow coordinate itself with all of the candy trends there in town.

Aside from her enjoying the time at the shop, she came to discover that Bill was the ideal boss; he was patient and kind, his overall good nature somehow making him seem more like a friend than an employer. The shop had a wonderful sense of family to it and that soon became the greatest rationale for her staying.

One of the things that she loved about the place was that it generally closed well before it got dark outside. This would grant Tamara the chance to get home without having to wander the dark streets of the town all by herself.

En route to her home from the shop, she would pass by the tall gates of the Wonka Chocolate Factory. It was a large and rather intimidating looking place, the smokestacks somehow hovering over the town. Often, she would stare up at the black letters that spelled out the name 'Wonka', which stretched from one side of the gate to the other.

She, like many people in this town, had heard all the stories about Willy Wonka that filtered about the community. He was something of an urban legend of the town; tall, mysterious, and highly intelligent. Tamara did not know very much about him because she was not native to the town, but Bill was, and he told her about the reclusive chocolatier and how he was considered to be the greatest candy maker in the entire world.

Bill spoke so highly and often of this man that it made Tamara feel as though she knew him as well. She never asked Bill if he had known Willy Wonka, but that seemed not to matter. There was this overwhelming feeling that the candy seller did actually know the man of whom he was speaking.

The stories and legends reached Tamara's ears and that left her feeling a silent sort of respect for him. She regarded the factory in silent contemplation, her questions about the secluded confectioner unanswered. Yet, through it all, the fascination lurked and although she had never actually seen him, he somehow represented a sort of mystery reminiscent of those stories about shadows or phantoms. The impact he left only seemed present in the candy that was meticulously delivered to Bill's shop each week.

In the back of her mind, Tamara pondered if any of the faces she had seen while walking through the town could have actually matched his. Thinking about that made her smile as she realized how her world had somehow become perfect…

…Until that night.

During the days that would follow, Tamara would be forced to accept that the perfect living arrangement that she shared was far from perfect. In fact, this would lead her into the most terrifying emotional rollercoaster ride that she had ever been on.

Yet through it all, this courageous, young woman who had never really gloated about her triumphs would, through an ironic twist of fate, discover that she was far more lucky than she could have anticipated.

The night that Tamara Jenkins would make this frightening discovery would ultimately bring her world and that of Willy Wonka crashing together in a way that would transform both of their lives, forever.


	2. Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting

_Just wanted to get this latest installment up before I head off to dreamland. I am also going to give a shout out to my husband whom we'll just call 'Mr. Yva J.' since he helps me by lending an ear while I beta read through these chapters looking for mistakes. He's generally the patient sort who helps with this if the grammar seems in order, just cause he's such a good listener._

_As for the reviews, welcome back to Ya Ya, who has been really wonderful about reviewing everything I toss out. I'm really blown away that you enjoy all of this stuff and that it doesn't overtly confuse you._

_Ajestice, thank you so much again for helping me with this. Your suggestions really did help with this and I am hoping that you will enjoy this first chapter. I have been writing like gangbusters on this, which is rather normal for me to write well ahead of what I post. I look forward to the next installment of your story. (Yva J's shameless plug: If you like Wilder Wonka as much as I do, read her story, you won't be disappointed.)_

_Victory Starr, as usual I'm always glad to see you jumping into these stories. I know that it's hard to keep up, but I'm glad that you're here and I do appreciate every review._

_Since one chapter is hard to get into the story, maybe this one will inspire you other folks to let me know what you think. I am really proud of where this is going, and I do hope that I can keep the suspense up._

_Edited April 14, 2008. I changed Bill's wife's name from Megan to Sylvia. The reason, I unwittingly wrote another character called Meagan in later chapters and didn't want to confuse you, so for the record, in this story, Bill's wife's name is Sylvia, but she won't show up in the story._

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting**

It was dusk when Tamara left Bill's candy shop. She was relatively happy as she left, her hand offering a casual wave to her employer. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bill, then we can continue clearing those shelves out so you can start the inventory."

"What would I do without you?" He asked smiling.

"My guess is either the shelves would never get done, or your wife would have to do them," Tamara said.

"You know Sylvia, she would never agree to that," Bill chuckled. "There would be about one hundred and fifty reasons for her to not do them."

"Maybe, but you have my word, I will come thirty minutes earlier so we can work on them." She said as she offered a casual wave. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye Tamara," he said as she left the shop and closed the door behind her.

The sky was getting somewhat darker as she walked down one of the side streets in the direction of the block of apartments in the neighborhood where she resided. It was a beautiful evening, the hues of pinks and purples seemed to shadow across the sky as though an array of color was beckoning her along. She was tired, but there was something very inspiring about the sky. She continued to walk, soon reaching the front gates of the factory. She lightly ran her fingers along the black bars that covered the gate. In the air she could smell the distinct flavor of chocolate and marshmallow.

She smiled slightly at the thought of tasting the Marshmallow Round that was in the recesses of her purse. The tantalizing scents seemed to beckon her to the candy as though the pied piper himself. She took a deep breath and spotting a bench not too far away; she made her way over to the group of seats that were along the side gate of the factory. There she could see the adjacent street where the town's flower district was.

Breathing in the various scents, she dug around in her purse until she found the candy and carefully pulled it out. Splashed across the familiar brown and orange colored wrapping paper was the trademark top hat. I wonder if Mr. Wonka wears a top hat himself, she pondered as she carefully pulled the wrapping paper away and then broke the candy into several pieces so that she could take a bite of the chocolate.

As she did, a look of contentment settled over her, making her almost forget that it was slowly getting dark outside. Somehow chocolate always seemed to make her feel not so ill at ease at being outside after sunset.

She took a deep breath, as she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps. Instead of speaking, she raised her head to see a tall man approaching where she sat on the bench. When he reached where she was seated, he sat down on the other end of the bench, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

Instead of ignoring her, as most strangers seemed to do, he turned and offered a smile. "Good evening."

Tamara nodded. "Hello." Instead of speaking further, she took another small bite of the candy, her eyes staring down at the ground. She would never have admitted it, but most men did make her feel a bit ill at ease, even attractive ones with pretty curly blond hair and shining blue eyes, as was the case here.

She brushed her hand through her short blonde hair, all the while wondering if she had somehow managed to cover it with streaks of the brown colored dark chocolate.

Much to her surprise and horror, she had done just that, because the man turned and looked over at her. "Excuse me," he spoke and she raised her head.

"Y-yes?" She asked, her voice filled with traces of nervousness.

"You have a bit of chocolate in your hair," he said, his voice emerging sounding much more tired than what she had heard when he had greeted her.

She raised her hand in order to wipe it away, but this did not prove easy, as she did not have a mirror.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. "Here, let me get that," he offered and motioned with his hand for her to inch closer to him. Nervously, she did as he indicated and through the use of the small piece of cloth, he had managed the task with ease.

"Thank you," she smiled weakly as he once more backed away and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. "I guess I really get into candy when I eat it." She said all the while noticing that there was still a large piece left. Instead of wrapping it in the wrapper and returning it to her pocket, she offered the rest of it to him.

"It can happen," he said as he accepted the offered sweet and bit into it. Chewing the bite, he swallowed and smiled. "Chocolate and marshmallow?"

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites," she offered freely. "My brother and I used to roast marshmallows over a campfire when we were kids. Then we'd squish it between two graham crackers and some dark chocolate. They tasted heavenly, and this sort of reminds me of them." She smiled at the memory, before continuing to speak. "Of course, afterwards, we would sit around and tell each other ghost stories and sing silly songs. You know what I mean?"

"Not really," the man admitted. "I've never been camping before. Is it nice?"

"It was once, back when we were kids and everything was fun and carefree. We actually used to pitch a tent in the back yard and sleep outside. It seems silly when I look back on it, but it was one of my fondest childhood memories."

"Why can't you do that now?" He asked curiously.

"I don't know, I suppose I could, but right now there's not really any point to it. The things we did as kids aren't the same today." As she spoke, she cast a glance over her shoulder. When she noticed that no one was present, she took a deep breath. "I guess, even if I were to go camping, I'd be constantly watching over my shoulder and waiting for something to happen."

"Like you did just now," he remarked.

Tamara shrugged her shoulders. If the truth were known, she had no idea that she had done that until he had brought it to her attention. Instead of speaking, she glanced skyward. It was no longer dusk, night had fallen and she was now getting ready to walk home in the dark. "I guess I should go," she whispered more to herself than to him.

The man instead of speaking, simply nodded, his attention no longer on her, but instead, it was focused on the package that was resting on his lap. As he ran his hand along the smooth surface of the object, he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Tamara watched him for several moments, all the while uncertain if she really wanted to leave his company. Although he seemed a bit strange, she somehow felt a sense of security while in his presence. Reluctantly, she stood up.

"Will you be alright?" He looked up just before she walked away.

"I think so," she smiled weakly, but offering a casual wave, she started to walk back in the direction of the front gate.

* * *

Once she had disappeared in the distance, Willy Wonka took a deep breath. He used to love walking along the darkened streets after dusk had fallen, but now he felt an uncanny agitation in doing even that. Perhaps the contents of the box he held in his hands would hold the reason for said concern.

Instead of sneaking back onto the factory grounds by means of the secret entrance, he made his way slowly back in the direction of the front gate. The light from the moon cast shadows all about, and he felt himself about as jumpy as the girl had been. There was something that sort of unified the two of them, and yet he had not thought to inquire as to her name. Although she looked as though she was close to two seconds short of jumping out of her skin, he had found her to be quite nice.

As she spoke about camping with her brother, he felt a tinge of envy about never having gone anywhere like that. In fact, there were many things about her that made him think that if he had asked her name, then he would have invited her to have a tea with him. Of course, there was no denying the fact that he was intrigued by the manner in which she had unwrapped the candy bar.

There was something appealing in the way in which she brushed her hand over the candy and then smeared some of the confection into her hair. She had no way of knowing that he was the one who had made the candy in the first place, but to him that seemed to hold very little relevance.

By the time he reached the front gate, he carefully pulled a key ring from his pocket where various odd-shaped objects hung, many of which were actually keys to the various buildings and rooms of the factory. He unlocked the gate, stepped onto the factory grounds before silently closing and relocking it. His thoughts were still on the girl who had sat on the bench with him. He pondered for a split second if he was going to cross paths with her again.

Of course, at that moment, he was not quite certain he was all that interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with another person. Although the chocolatier was not considered to be naïve or inexperienced, there was something that was quickly making him feel ill at ease.

For the last two weeks, he had been getting strange letters in his mailbox. They had come to him from a woman who had considered him to be her intended beau. This was not something that he could actually grasp, as only a certain number of people actually knew what he looked like. There was something highly disturbing about this woman affirming that he was 'the only man for her'.

He took a deep breath as he made his way across the courtyard and entered the small door that was situated off to one side of the open space. The door abruptly closed behind him and once it was locked; he made his way down the hall to his office before closing himself in.

Once he had come into the strangely decorated room, he went over to the half chair that was placed next to the desk and sat down. He then began the task of peeling away the paper that was covering the small parcel.

As the paper was cast aside, Willy inhaled as he opened the box and peered into it. Hidden among the masses of candy wrappers, was something that looked to be a poem. The person who had written it had used the wrapping paper of his Marshmallow Round candy, the same candy that the girl on the bench had been eating when he approached.

Had she been the one who was responsible for the letters that had landed in his mailbox during the past weeks, or was this strictly coincidence? As he dug deeper inside the box, he unearthed a number of travel brochures. One particular carried a picture of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France and beneath it the simple word 'honeymoon' was written. Along the border of that very same brochure were hearts and his initials and the two letters BH.

Willy swallowed as his attention diverted and he discovered that these were the wrappings for his candy. As he stared down at the heart that surrounded his surname on the various pieces of paper, the following words were written: 'If I can't have you, then I'll make sure that no one else will ever want you. Don't betray my love, my dearest, sweetest, confectioner.'

This is insane, the thoughts were swirling around his mind as the papers slid from his grasp and landed back in the box as it rested on the top of the desk. Sighing, he looked out across the room, his eyes momentarily closing as he tried to block out the words: 'If I can't have you, then I'll make sure no one will ever want you.' It seemed like an empty threat, but this was starting to invade his space and it sent chills literally cursing down his spine.

The incessant letters had been amusing at first, but now it was starting to agitate him even during those times when he was safe inside the factory walls. There had to be a way for him to get her to stop this harassment once and for all. He did not know her name, in fact, everything she had sent to him had somehow been written in a coded language.

It was perhaps for that reason that this was really starting to do a number on him.


	3. Chapter 2: The Wisdom of Youth

_Hi everyone and welcome to chapter 2 of this story. I have decided that I wanted to go ahead and get the next part up and also give a shout out to my wonderful, awesome reviewers. Feel free to jump in with comments, all are welcome, well except flames, which basically means I'm allergic to fire…it gives me the heebie-geebies._

_Ya Ya, you figured out exactly why it is I decided to write this. Yes, I do draw back from personal experiences to present it, but I also enjoy writing about different premises as a means to warn people of what is out there. I will say it again how it truly saddens me that so many of us ladies have dealt with this issue in varying degrees in our lives._

_I think that my writing this has been brought to light because of 1. people writing it and trying to glorify or unrealistically present it, and 2. people who actually stalk others without even realizing (or caring) that they are putting others through a sort of scary psychological game. I'm so glad you got rid of that guy. There are some very nice ones out there, but one does have to kiss a lot of frogs before finding that prince. _

_Victory Starr, I catch your drift very, very well and am so glad that you are enjoying this, I know that I'm thoroughly enjoying your work as well. Isn't Gene Wilder's Wonka just the best? He made this character so wonderful and inspired so much great stuff here._

_Ajestice, No problem, it's a plug that is so well deserved. Hope you enjoy this latest installment it may look a tad bit familiar, but it's now polished up somewhat. Now it's your turn to update. Teehee._

_For all you others reading, please enjoy, but don't forget to leave a review. I'm not psychic, I don't know if you like this unless you give a shout out saying it's OK._

_All that said, do enjoy! Ajestice, I did change that last part. You were right, it was more impowering. Hope this works._

_Edited April 14, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Wisdom of Youth**

At that moment, someone tapped at the door and Willy nearly jumped out of his skin. "What?" He barked out, his voice much more snappish than usual. In fact, several seconds passed before the door actually opened and his apprentice, Charlie Bucket, came inside the room.

Charlie was now closing in on his sixteenth year, but he still had the same boyish qualities he always seemed to have. His voice was now much deeper as puberty had struck some time after he had moved into the factory. Of course, the boy had never ceased to remind the chocolatier that contrary to all those changes, the youngest Bucket was still very much a boy in his stance and manner.

"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, still addressing him as he had done the day the two of them had met.

He raised his head. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

The chocolatier wordlessly shoved the box to the far end of his desk. There was no point in making the boy feel as uncomfortable as he presently felt. One of them carrying such feelings of apprehension was quite enough, he concluded.

Willy remained where he was, but instead addressed the boy with his back still facing him. "Why wouldn't I be?" He asked, his voice a strange mixture of pretense and nervousness. He knew that if he actually faced the boy, that Charlie would see the uneasiness in his eyes.

Unfortunately for him, Charlie seemed to notice it anyway.

He took a deep breath before responding to the chocolatier's inquiry. "I-I don't know, you're never jumpy, but lately you seem to be on edge all the time. Even after I knocked on your door, I was almost afraid to come in. I sort of figured that you were going to bite my head off or something." This response somehow reflected the simple honesty that seemed characteristic of the boy

Willy took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I suppose I haven't really been myself lately."

"What's the matter?" Charlie asked, his voice now shifting and instead of being honest, it now matched the chocolatier's nervous tones. "D-did I do something wrong?" His question emerged and it sounded as though the boy was much younger than he actually was.

"No, of course not," Willy took a deep breath, but suddenly felt the light touch of Charlie's hands on his shoulders. He reached up and patted one of the boy's hands, before running it through his own curly locks of hair. He was trying to handle this in a mature and reassuring manner, unfortunately, he was failing miserably.

"Can I do something to help?" Charlie asked, the simple words of his question causing Willy to turn around and look up at the boy who was still standing behind him.

Instead of seeing the general warmth that emanated the confectioner, Charlie gasped when he saw the haunted expression that lined his best friend's face. He had seem many different emotions emanating from this man over the past three years, but never in his wildest dreams did he anticipate seeing the trepidation that was so obvious on that particular day. "Mr. Wonka, please trust me enough to tell me what's going on."

Not knowing what to say or do, the chocolatier motioned towards the box that was on the far corner of his desk. "This is what's going on, Charlie."

The boy inched closer to the box before reaching over and picking it up. He pulled back the lid and began to dig his way through the contents. He pulled out one slip of paper that bore the simple stanzas of the poem and started to read. "Shakespeare she's not," he mumbled under his breath.

Seconds passed before he produced the travel brochure and his joking demeanor dried up as he looked at the chocolatier before refocusing his attention back down on the pages resting in his hand. "Oh my God!" he gasped.

For his part, Willy watched as the boy's face lost much of its color. Wordlessly, he got to his feet and let the boy take the seat. Before he could even speak, Charlie looked up at him.

"Do you know what all this stuff is, Mr. Wonka?" He asked.

"Aside from being utterly creepy, I'm not really sure if there's another word for it," Willy said honestly.

"Stalking is the word you should be looking for," Charlie said weakly. "At least based on this stuff. This woman seems to trailing after your every step and wanting to win you over."

"Charlie, how do you know so much about all of this?" Willy asked curiously.

"They talked about it at school, there was this guest lecturer from the police and she was telling us about unhealthy dating and relationship issues in our Health class," Charlie said. "She mentioned the statistics about unreported stalking cases and how jealousy tends to make people do crazy things."

"You know, when you start talking like this, you make me feel rather naïve," Willy mused more to himself than to his apprentice.

"You're not," the boy said. "Mr. Wonka, you're the wisest person I've ever known, and you're my best friend, too."

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" Willy asked with a forced grin.

"Depends," Charlie smirked.

Willy took a deep breath and released it slowly. "You've been around me too long, you're resorting to not answering my questions. Come on, Charlie, just tell me what you are thinking."

"I was just wondering if my telling you this stuff actually makes you feel any better," Charlie said.

"Maybe a little, but no, not really, it's making me feel even more on edge, especially the stuff about the statistics. My God, why is this happening to me? I'm just a candy maker."

"Not just 'a candy maker', you're the greatest candy maker in the world," Charlie said. "Modesty is not really a trait I'm used to seeing in you." When Willy did not react positively to these words, as the teenager half expected, the boy's blue eyes met his. "Listen, I'm just a kid and my words may not mean much here, but Mr. Wonka, you're a famous person, and people know who you are by sight."

"This was one of the reasons I was not keen on leaving the factory," the chocolatier admitted.

"Yeah, but you did," Charlie said. "If it makes any sense, I don't think this BH person is in love with you like she probably is infatuated with the idea of having the attention of someone who is famous," he paused as he looked around the strange decorations of the office. Taking a deep breath he regarded the chocolatier. "I think we should at least tell my mom or Grandpa Joe about what's going on. They might know what to do."

Willy shook his head. "I don't want to make them worry, Charlie."

"But they may eventually do so anyway because I'm worried," Charlie looked at his friend. "I mean that stuff about wanting you so badly that she would do everything she could to get your attention is really weird. Then when she said that if she can't have you, then no one else should have you, it sounded like a death threat. I mean; Willy, that's scary stuff."

Willy looked at the boy, his eyes widening. This was the very first time that he could consciously recall Charlie addressing him by his given name. "W-what did you say?" He asked, his expression shifting and now surprise was etched across his handsome face.

"I said it was scary stuff," Charlie said, his voice etched in confusion. The words had, after all, emerged in a practical shout, and now the boy could not imagine Willy not hearing him, even if he was a trifle deaf in his right ear.

"No, not that," Willy shook his head. "Charlie, didn't you notice?"

"Notice what?" The boy looked at the chocolatier. He was not quite sure as to what to say, in fact, he could not understand why it was his friend was even smiling.

"For the first time since we've met, you just called me by my name," Willy said. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear you say my name like that?"

Charlie shook his head. "I don't know."

"A long time," Willy affirmed.

"You mean you want me to call you 'Willy'?" The boy asked, but when he saw his friend nodding, he took a deep breath. "I-I didn't know."

"Well, now you do," he said with a smile. "It's the sign that you're becoming a man and my equal."

"Me?" Charlie's eyes widened.

"Oh course you," the chocolatier nodded.

"OK, so what are we going to do about this creepy woman?" Charlie asked.

"I'll handle it, just like I handle everything else," Willy said with more confidence than he felt. "Don't worry."

"How can you be so _calm_?" The boy asked, the tone of his voice shifting as the last word emerged.

"I'm not calm, Charlie," Willy said. "You think that I am, that everything I do is centered on this cool arrogance. Generally, I would say you're right and that you know me rather well. The truth is, when the letters started arriving, I found them to be rather amusing, it seemed to be a collaboration of plagiarized quotes and bad poetry. Yet, during the past two weeks, things have progressively gotten worse. I'm getting them everyday now, and it's making me feel more panicky than I would care to admit. The honest truth is, I did not know of such things before. Not even when I reopened the factory, or when the Golden Ticket contest was going on. I have never experienced anything quite like this before and in some ways, I feel alone in this particular battle."

"You mean, in other words, you're…kind of…scared," Charlie shoved the rest of the contents back into the box and closed the lid. "What are we going to do?" He eventually asked, his voice soft.

"I don't know. What can we do?" He asked.

"Well, if you ask me, I think we should take the stuff to the police and let them try and stop her," Charlie suggested. "I mean; from what that woman said at my school, it's kind of normal for a victim to feel a little bit scared. You remember last year when that girl in my class wanted to date me so that she could get into the factory? She was leaving notes and things in my locker. I was starting to get really nervous about it and so I talked to you and my mom about it."

"I remember that," Willy said. "We went to the school's director and had a talk with him. It soon came out that the girl just wanted meet me. Once that happened, she left you alone."

"Yeah, but this sort of makes that look rather silly and pointless, doesn't it? I mean; Willy, this woman seems to be very intent on meeting you at the altar."

"I know, but Charlie, you know I'm not interested in getting married, I'm rather devoted to my work," Willy said pointedly.

"I know that, but whenever stuff like this comes up, I sometimes get scared," the boy confessed.

"Why?" Willy asked, his gaze now on his protégé.

"Because I don't want you to go," the boy admitted. "I know that when you told me three years ago about inheriting the factory to me that you would one day leave. Back then I was too blown away to even react. Now, I know that I don't want you to go. I can't do anything here without you. I know I always seem confident, but maybe it's because I wanted your approval. You said that you wanted someone who would run things in your way, and I'm not sure if I know yet if the way I do things is the way you would do things," he paused. "I know it seems wrong for me to bring this up right now, but I kept thinking about it when you were withdrawing and starting to feel on edge. I wanted to tell you something that I thought might help. Now that I know what's going on, I don't know if it does. I just know that my best friend is acting like a stranger. Excuse me for having a 'Veruca moment', but I want you to be the person you were before."

"I want to be that person too," Willy said. "The important thing for you to know is that I'm not going anywhere, and this woman obviously doesn't know what my priorities are. Chances are, she's not going to stop doing this any time soon, not even after I tell her to cease and desist. There simply are no guarantees that she will."

"So, that leaves us back at square one, doesn't it?" Charlie asked.

"Perhaps not," Willy mused. "Charlie, maybe the only way I can really get her to stop is to show her how scary this sort of behavior is. You know, give her a taste of her own medicine."

"If you do that, you could get into a lot of trouble," Charlie said. "She could go to the police herself."

"And then what?" Willy asked critically. "Tell them that she's been writing love letters to me and wanting to marry me? She could very easily go to the police and file charges against me for reacting negatively to her, but then I could also tell them that she's been stalking me. She could find herself in even more trouble than she would want to have."

As he spoke, a slight smirk suddenly crossed his face. It looked as though as they were speaking, Willy suddenly had an idea as to how to take the offensive with this particular situation. "It would seem to me that perhaps getting a taste of her own medicine is just what she needs."

Charlie looked at his friend. Gone was the look of fear that he had seen earlier, and now irritation seemed to replace it. The teenager was not sure if this was the sign that his friend was getting back to 'normal', but he could only hope that it was at least a start.

One thing was perfectly clear to him, if the woman thought that the act of upsetting or infuriating Willy Wonka was a good idea, then she was going to discover very quickly that that was the biggest mistake anyone could possibly make.


	4. Chapter 3: Shocking Discoveries

_Hello everyone, and welcome to the next chapter of the story. I wanted to thank everyone for reading and the folks who are reviewing this. It means a lot to me. So, here's hoping that you enjoy the latest chapter._

_Ya Ya, I agree there are more male stalkers than females, but I have to admit that this sort of thing does probably happen with women who are psychologically unbalanced as this chapter will indicate. I hope that you enjoy the latest installment._

_Victory Starr, you'll find out soon enough what idea Willy has, but yes, it has been interesting for me to write a more vulnerable characterization for him. I think that this sort of issue does make people seem more vulnerable, so I am going with it._

_Ajestice, You were so right about that last line of the last chapter, so I changed it a bit. Yes, that vastly mistaken concept is so true. Of course, contrary to Willy's nervousness and apprehension, I will try and make sure that he remains the same loving character that we all like so much. Thanks for helping me with that, and also for being so honest about the impact thing. It's folks like you who really help make the story all the more better._

_Thanks again to my reviewers, I really appreciate your imput more than you know. _

_I hope that everyone reading this enjoys the latest update. Please let me know what you think, but do enjoy._

_Edited April 14, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Shocking Discoveries**

As Tamara distanced herself from the front gate of the factory and started to walk brusquely away, she took a deep breath. Ten minutes would soon pass before she would reach the large, heavy door of her apartment building.

She lived on a street that was reminiscent of Victorian England, the streetlamps reminding her vaguely of another time and place. One of the many things that made her realize that she was in a modern day English setting was the fact that the candles that had once been in the lamps overhead had been replaced by electric light bulbs that went off and on in synchronicity with dawn and dusk.

She released a pent up breath as she dug in the side pocket of her purse and pulled out her keychain. She began to separate the keys, all the while thinking about how grateful she was to have made it home safely. Finding the right key, she cast a final glance over her shoulder before unlocking the door and going inside.

Making her way down the hall and walking in the direction of her front door, she smiled at one of the neighbors who happened to be out in the hall cleaning the banister. "Good evening, Mrs. Reynolds," she said as the gray headed woman nodded and watched as she made her way further down the hall.

As Tamara reached her front door, she stuck the key in the lock and turned it, the sounds of the bolt lock giving way. Removing the key, she pressed down on the lever and opened the door, the faint aroma of chocolate filling her nose as she entered and closed the door behind her. The first thing that she noticed was that the shower was running, which indicated that her roommate had been home for some time.

Instead of giving it any thought, she made her way across the room and tossed her purse and jacket onto the sofa as she generally did after a day's work. She then loosened the black scarf that she wore over her pinstriped dress shirt. As she allowed the small black piece of cloth to slip between her fingers and fall listlessly on the top of her things on the sofa, a strange odor filled her nose.

Something seemed remotely out of place and it emanated into the room from the dining room and kitchen. Generally, the apartment was neat and pristine. In fact Belinda usually kept the place in some semblance of order, which Tamara guessed was in conjunction with her work. Belinda was something of a neat-nick, everything had its place, and if it wasn't in place then she was not happy. Tamara remembered how she was always tossing about ideas for new designs for the place, whether it was curtains, pillow shams, or even rugs for the floors. Because of Belinda's immaculate fashion sense, Tamara figured that she probably lived in one of the nicest apartments in England.

Thinking that something odd was cooking, Tamara walked from the living room into the dining room, where a shocking discovery would meet her eyes.

The table, which was usually neat and tidy was a mess. The surface was covered with what looked to be candy bars, papers, and red heart-shaped balloons.

She was not sure as to what all of this meant, but a strange sensation engulfed her. She cautiously approached the table and looked down at the objects that graced it. A mass of melted chocolate seemed to be covering one end of it, a sharp cutting knife next to it, the blade covered with the confection. Approaching, Tamara dug her finger into the chocolate so as to take a taste of it. As the bitter concoction filled her, she realized that it was the remnants of a Slugworth Sizzler bar.

Sticking her tongue out at the horrid mass of chocolate that she had tasted, she went into the kitchen and approached the sink. She reached for a glass and abruptly filled it with water before chugging it down with gusto. "Yuck," she muttered as she began to shift her gaze from the kitchen back into the adjoining dining area. "That stuff tastes like sugar coated cardboard," she grumbled.

As her attention diverted back to the table she noticed that her paper shredder had been taken out of her room and the bucket beneath the large shark-like teeth of the object was now filled to capacity with shredded blue papers. Next to that sat a small bag filled with the same red balloons she had seen after initially coming into the room.

Tamara took a deep breath as her gaze scanned the room and she suddenly spotted several blown up balloons tied together. Inside of them were the remains of the wrapping papers of the Slugworth bars.

This is too creepy to be real, Tamara thought as she continued to take in the rest of the objects that lay spread out across the table. Copies of travel brochures caught her attention next and she read the names of some of the most romantic cities in the world, the one on top bearing the words Paris, France. A picture of the Eiffel Tower was splashed across the page.

Underneath the famous French landmark, the word 'honeymoon' was written in Belinda's uneven scrawl. 'Honeymoon', Tamara's thoughts were, by this time, positively reeling. Her roommate did not even have a boyfriend, why is it she would even have a brochure for Paris lying around here anyway?

Finally, her gaze came to rest on a second pile of papers that were next to the brochures. Smudges of chocolate covered what appeared to be handwritten notes and citations from literature. The opened book of Shakespearian sonnets gave that assertion away tenfold. Leaning over, she started to read the note nearest to her, but before she could read anything besides, 'my dearest William', on the top of one of the pages, the sounds of someone clearing their throat emerged. She raised her head to see that Belinda was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and she was staring at Tamara with a coy smile stretching across her face.

Despite her inner voice telling her not to show her roommate that she was afraid, Tamara shuddered. There was something awfully creepy about that smile, something that told the younger of the two women that she did not even want to know what her roommate was cooking up.

"I was going to clean this up after I showered," Belinda said in a friendly enough voice. Of course that frightening smile still remained.

"What is all this, or do I really want to know?" Tamara eventually found her voice and asked. For a split second, she pondered who was the elder of the two women. Belinda seemed to carry an almost crazed look about her, her eyes filled with something that remotely looked like a cross between naughtiness and malevolence.

Belinda came over to the table and picked up the knife, her hand casually wrapping around the handle, the small blade now shimmering in the light of the room. "It's just a little project I'm working on, Tamara. It's nothing to worry about." As if on command, she jabbed the knife into the nearest Slugworth candy bar, her hand never leaving the knife's handle.

"What sort of project?" Tamara felt the words somehow being forced from between her pursed lips, her gaze never once leaving the mangled candy bar.

"It's part of my plan to make Willy Wonka fall helplessly in love with me. I'm using this stuff to help show him that I am the most perfect woman for him," Belinda said with a slight swoon in her voice. "I want to be close to him, to shower my undying loyalty on him."

"You want to be loyal to Willy Wonka?" Tamara asked uneasily as she watched her roommate fiddle with the handle of the knife. "Buy his candy bars instead."

"No, I want to be loyal to him, to love him and him alone, but I want him to love me too," Belinda said dreamily.

Tamara bit down on her lip, something that she always did when she was nervous or afraid. "I don't know if you'll succeed, the way you're talking, you're scaring me. How do you think he may feel? Men are not above being afraid you know."

"I know what I'm doing," Belinda said, her voice indignant. "Besides, I'm almost certain that Willy Wonka is going to love what I am doing for him. I don't think anyone has ever done such things to show him that they care before."

Thank God for that, Tamara thought as she backed away from the table and made her way towards the door that led back out into the hallway. "Take it from me, I know from personal experience that what you are doing will not make Willy Wonka fall in love you, it could very easily scare the crap out of him. He's a recluse, for goodness sakes, and he may perceive your actions as rather scary…"

"…Nonsense, he cannot possibly be as paranoid as you are," Belinda said sarcastically. "Besides that, I figure that the only reason you are arguing this point is so that you can snare him for yourself."

"Belinda, I don't even know the man," Tamara said firmly. "Aside from that, I'm really not interested in dating. I just happen to know more than I want to about the issue of stalking."

Instead of continuing this dialogue with someone she viewed as crazed, the younger of the two women slipped quietly past Belinda and out of the room. As she made her way down the hall to the safety of her bedroom, she noticed that her hands were unconsciously trembling. For the first time since Belinda had moved into the apartment with her, Tamara Jenkins decided to lock her bedroom door from the inside.

It was no longer a secret, her roommate was in love with Willy Wonka, a man whom she would stand very little chance of ever meeting. Now she knew why it was Belinda had opted to moving to this town. It was not her work, as Belinda had insisted. Her motives probably had nothing at all to do with work.

The dangerous feeling of attachment suddenly washed over Tamara as she remembered how frightening Neil had been just before they had broken up. She had never told her roommate of the hell that she went through in the hands of her ex-boyfriend. Today, she wished that she had. Now, not only was Tamara terrified, she was also concerned for a man she did not even know.

As she pulled off her clothes, she dressed in a pair of jogging pants and an old worn t-shirt. Once she was comfortable, she crawled beneath the covers on her bed, her gaze still fixated on the door.

Although it was getting warmer outside, she was still cold, so she pulled the covers up to her chin. After several seconds, she crawled out of bed and went over to the cabinet where a small safe was up against the back wall.

She retrieved it and went in search for the key. Finding it, she opened the safe and noticed that the object, aside from holding some old letters, it was empty. She went over to her dressing table and retrieved some of her favorite pieces of jewelry. These she put in a small cloth sachet and placed them in the small safe. Next she retrieved some photographs that were casually under the bed.

These photos were of her family as well as a number of her friends from back home. How she missed them, but with Neil roaming about, she was well aware that it was not safe for her to return. At the bottom of the stack, she found the picture from when she was eight and wore her hair in braids that hung down over her back. She had gone camping with her brother, Rick, and her face was covered with chocolate while the boy was grinning while holding a half-emptied bag of marshmallows.

She smiled as her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had had with the man on the bench along the factory walls. He had never been camping, and yet she could not imagine not ever having gone. It was her fondest childhood memory and she could not even imagine someone not having experienced such a wonderful feeling as that.

Putting the pictures inside the safe, she closed and locked it before returning it to its spot in the back of the closet. If something were to happen between her and Belinda, at least she knew that her most valuable possessions would be safe. As she stood staring at the closet door, an unconscious tremor suddenly cursed through her. Something is about to happen, she thought grimly and all I can do to contend with it was to try and protect my things from a possible onslaught.

Sighing deeply, she went over to the small locked antique dresser that her grandfather had restored for her. She opened the secret compartment and put in several of her stuffed animals, the knitted socks from her mother, as well as other odds and ends from around the room. Locking up the dresser once again, she returned to the comfort of her soft bed.

After doing all of this, she could still not shake that undercurrent of worries that engulfed her.

At that moment, Tamara had no idea that something drastic was about to happen to her and it would come about the very next day.


	5. Chapter 4: Final Considerations

_Here's the latest update. This is basically bringing us to where things start to happen. Please do review this, I know that I am grateful for the people who do review it, but do let me know what you think. I have put a lot of hours into this and have even put 'In Another's Eyes' on hold until I could get this done._

_I hope that you enjoy this. Many thanks to my reviewers._

_Things will be happening in the next chapter, Ya Ya and Victory Starr, thanks to you both for your reviews and continued support. It's deeply gratifying to know that you're enjoying this. Hopefully others are as well._

_Victory Starr, the typo you cited has been found and corrected, thanks! _

_Edited April 16, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Final Considerations **

At the same time Tamara was trying to go to sleep, Willy Wonka was sitting in his office, his hands rubbing through his curly locks of hair. He was relieved that he had told Charlie the truth, even though he knew that his apprentice was now worried about him. Before the boy had to leave in order to return to his family's suite, Willy was able to divert their focus for a time by discussing the latest business issues regarding the factory.

This acted as a perfect diversion tactic for the time being, but as soon as the chocolatier was alone, the nervousness that he carried ultimately returned. It was almost as though the fright that he may have instilled in the Golden Ticket winners during the tour had come full circle and was now landing smack dab on top of him.

As strange as it seemed, his words to Charlie had been the truth, he was not at all interested in pursuing a relationship with anyone. In fact, he was more or less married to his work and anticipated that that would remain a constant.

The whole idea of his getting involved with a woman seemed rather remote at best. The truth remained that he never really knew how to behave around them, not even when he was a boy. Back then, he had been too shy and introverted to even start a conversation with one.

Today, the adult Willy Wonka was not much different, except that he was now able to shield his true feelings behind a self-created façade. Generally, women did not like him because he came across as overconfident or arrogant, specifically if the conversation was centered on his work. He was good at what he did, and he knew it, but this tended to turn them off, which was just as well. Relationships robbed him of his precious candy-making time anyway.

What had surprised him was how well he had managed when he had spoken to the young lady on the bench outside of the factory. She had been polite and considerate when she shared her candy with him. It was odd how she did not even know that he had made the confection that she was eating. He remembered how her hands had shaken somewhat and it seemed as though the chocolate had somehow managed to calm her nerves.

Soon his thoughts shifted, and his mind had returned to the woman who had been sending him the letters. He still did not know her name, but there was something in that not knowing that seemed almost sinister. In fact, she had come on so strong that even his trusted Oompa Loompa mail screener had ceased checking the mail and requested a new task.

Perhaps this stood to reason, as in Loompaland, such things as stalking had never transpired. However, it was through that event that Willy realized his own obligation to opening the mail himself. For a while, he did just that, until the Oompa Loompa leader, Naibouli, had noticed the shift in his demeanor, and had insisted on collecting the mail himself.

This latest package had a melted mass of chocolate in the form of a heart with the initials WW and BH carved in by means of a vegetable knife. What frightened him the most, however, was the simple fact that she had addressed him by his given name, 'William'.

The only person who had ever called him by that name had been his father. This only happened when the elder of the two had been angry, which given Willy's track record, was quite a common occurrence.

Cringing, he picked up the chocolate mass and dropped it into the waste can, his hands unconsciously shaking as he pulled the flute from his waistcoat pocket. Normally, he used this to summon the Oompa Loompas, but at that moment, he could do nothing with it. When he tried to bring the object to his lips, he was so nervous that he could not even force a simple tune out of it.

Lowering the instrument, he shook his head as he tried without success at getting himself in check. There was no one around; he was alone since most of the Oompa Loompas had retired for the evening. Their days had somehow started and ended before his did.

Of course, while the chocolatier felt reasonably safe in the confines of the factory, there was something rather unsettling about this whole situation. Charlie had even gone so far as to notice it.

Now that he had told his apprentice of these disquieting things, Willy was left to feel even more protective of the boy as well as of the Oompa Loompas. If the police were to come inside the factory, then he would have to do what he could to keep the Oompa Loompas hidden. Of course, they needed free mobility around the factory, and strangers inside would make him feel even more ill at ease than he already felt.

He bit down on his lip as he started to ponder what he could do. Calling the police about this obsessed woman seemed out of the question. With the fickleness of fame looming over his head, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before the press caught wind of this and descended on his factory like a troupe of vultures.

Whoever this girl was, she had graduated from simple flattery to downright scary in the matter of days. Her letters, instead of making him feel comfortable and pleased, had succeeded in turning his life completely upside down. Willy took a deep breath as he returned the flute in the pocket of his purple waistcoat.

"How am I going to deal with this?" He muttered to the stillness. "I have always been able to handle strange and uncomfortable situations, but this went well beyond simply being odd or disquieting." To Willy Wonka, 'strange' and 'uncomfortable' were generally the descriptors for the boat ride between the Chocolate Room and the Inventing Room, but not something like this.

He took a deep breath as he banged his fist on the desk, the resonances of it drowning out everything else around him. "I have to deal with this girl myself, and in my own way," he mumbled under his breath. The question that cursed through his mind was how he would be able to get her inside the factory and show her that this behavior was inappropriate. Perhaps through the simple act of scaring her, he would be able to somehow figuratively knock some sense into her. He would never strike a woman, but he could not help but feel a strange foreboding at actually bringing her into his home.

He went over to the half a filing cabinet that was situated on one side of the room, his hand reaching up and grabbing one of the notebooks that was inside. Returning to the desk, he seated himself in front of it as he began to flip casually through the pages until he found what he called the 'green mocha leaf sleeping extract'. He had often used this invention on himself when he had been suffering from insomnia. Through a simple inhalation of the substance, he would fall into a deep sleep. This seemed a safe enough idea, that is if he managed to corner this woman.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could confront her at home since she had not included a mailing address on her communications. The place where he would ultimately have to catch her would most likely be at the gate at the front of the factory. He was now determined to make her wish that she had never even heard the name Willy Wonka.

The chocolatier took a deep breath as he got to his feet and started to walk towards the door leading out of his office. He made his way down the hallway in the direction of a room he had simply dubbed as the 'Beige Room'.

This was, by far, the most boring and uninteresting room in the entire factory. It stood to reason as it had once been a filing room where the records of his employees had been kept. Today, the barren room had beige colored walls, a drab odor smelling of old newspapers, and reminded him vaguely of a prison cell. An adjoining bathroom was next to the small room. Many of his loyal workers asked him why it was he had never decorated that particular room, and all he could say was that he had not yet gotten around to it.

Perhaps in the coming months, he would decorate the room, but for now, it seemed ideal for the intentions that he had for it. He took a deep breath and looked around the room just before noticing the simple bulb that hung overhead. As he turned it on, he could make out the dim light and shadows as they danced across the wall. "It's perfect," he mumbled under his breath as he went over and turned off the light and pulled the door closed behind him.

Out in the hallway, he started to make his way back towards his office. His thoughts seemed to be drifting as he contemplated a quotation from Sun-Tzu, which said: 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. Perhaps in bringing this woman here, that was precisely what he was doing.

Of course, this did not conceal the nervousness that encased him. The prospect of having this insane woman inside his beloved factory was almost too outlandish to be real.

He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to contemplate what the worst part of this whole sorted mess was. I'm not going to get married anytime soon, he thought for the umpteenth time, in fact, it's rather like I told Charlie, I'm perfectly content with my life as it is. To change it now would be rather preposterous.

As he reached the door with all the golden writing that adorned it, he noticed that the Oompa Loompa leader was standing just outside the door and appeared to be waiting for him. His white gloved hands were clasped in front of his body as his eyes sought those of the chocolatier.

"I've been thinking Naibouli," Willy said as he approached his friend.

"What about?" The question emerged, but Willy knew almost instinctively that the Oompa Loompa knew precisely what it was he was contemplating.

"In the wake of recent events, we should perhaps go ahead and follow through with the plan to stop this girl from harassing me," Willy began. "We can use the 'green mocha bean sleeping extract'. I have some left in my room."

The Oompa Loompa nodded. "How shall we go about doing it? After all, if anyone sees you using it outside, it could raise questions."

"True, but I have to find a way," the chocolatier said. "This sort of behavior must cease. Ever since it started, I have not been doing well. I nearly blew up some experiments several days ago because I felt so jumpy. The point is, these letters have only succeeded in making me feel as though I am slowly going insane. It does not help me to create new things to always be in such a state as this."

"I agree," Naibouli said. "It is wrong what she has been doing to you, and I sense that her behavior is getting progressively worse. Perhaps it is now the time for you to go and seek out other assistance by means of the authorities."

"I can't do that," Willy argued. "If I did, then it would perhaps bring even more strangers to the factory. I know that it felt strange enough for you to accustom yourselves to the Golden Ticket winners, but this would make you feel all the more like prisoners than you already do." He shook his head adamantly. "I can't do that to you, it would be wrong of me."

"But what about her?" The Oompa Loompa asked. "If you rob this woman of her freedom, then you could get into a great deal of trouble."

"Perhaps, but as Scott Adams once said: 'Nothing inspires forgiveness quite like revenge'," he said with a smirk. "I have to do something, if for no other reason, but to maintain my peace of mind. If she happens to experience hell on earth here, then perhaps she will come to understand what she has been putting me through. This is a crop of very unsettling events and I know that I cannot sit passively by and wait for another package to come."

"Then do what you must do," the Oompa Loompa said reassuringly. "If you require any further assistance…"

"…I'll let you know," Willy affirmed.

After several moments of companionable silence, the Oompa Loompa left, and he decided that instead of dwelling on what was happening in those strange letters, he would retire to his quarters and hope against hope that he would be able to get some sleep without the extract.

Right at that moment, the chocolatier was not really certain if he would be successful. His thoughts were still on whether or not what he was about to do was even right. Yet, as he contemplated that near explosion several days ago, he realized that the decision has already been made for him.

He would have to take matters into his own hands and do what he could stop this woman from continuing with these scary games. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them as stubborn determination washed over him.


	6. Chapter 5: Mistaken Identity

_OK folks, here's the next chapter, it's got a nice little cliffhanger at the end, and maybe through that you could review to inspire me to update quicker. Mwahahaha._

_All kidding aside, this is where the story really starts to pick up. Here's hoping that you enjoy it. Thanks to Victory-Starr, Ajestice, Jareth's Genevieve, and YaYa for the reviews and sticking with the story. There's not much to say aside from that. Here's hoping that you enjoy this. Please review…it speeds up my motivation to post new stuff quickly._

_BTW, this chapter title was actually my first idea for the entire story, but Ajestice made the suggestion for the title, and since I liked it, that's what I went with. So thanks go out again for that. _

_Enjoy. _

_Edited April 16, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 5: Mistaken Identity**

In the wake of discovering the cause of her roommate's strange behavior, it was soon revealed that Belinda's secret was a far cry creepier than Tamara had initially anticipated. It was not every day that a twenty-eight-year-old woman obsessed about a man as though he was a rock star. Of course this did not lessen the empathy that she felt for Willy Wonka. It seemed to her that Belinda had literally gone insane with devising plans in which to show the confectioner the extent of the lust she carried for him.

These bizarre tendencies did not affect Tamara until the night before, and after having made the discovery, she found herself feeling more afraid than usual. As she was getting dressed for work that morning, she hoped that her nervousness would not come under scrutiny once she had reached the candy shop. The last thing she really needed was to lose this job, since they were so hard to come by.

After emerging from her room, Tamara discovered that the mess from the night before had still not been cleaned up. In fact, there were still signs of her roommate's psychological state covering the table, but at least some of the items were now gone, which inclined her to believe that Belinda had already left.

Although the mass of melted chocolate had been cleaned up, there was now a small box containing about twenty of Wonka's Marshmallow Round bars in the middle of the table. The chocolate was visible, as many of the wrappers had been removed and were now being used to write notes on. Tamara picked up one of the wrappers and upon studying it closer, she spotted her roommate's uneven handwriting gracing the white colored inside of the wrapper.

Across the top line read the words: 'To my beloved William, from your bride to be, Belinda'.

'Bride to be', she thought as an uneasy sensation lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. There was something very obtrusive in these words, and for the umpteenth time, her heart went out to Willy Wonka. If he knew of Belinda's intentions, he would no doubt feel as nervous as she did whenever she thought about Neil.

If those written words were not enough, the candy wrappers were cut into the shape of hearts. It was completely obvious that Belinda had taken great pains to do all of these things, she thought. Yet at the same time, she could not help but ponder why it was that her roommate was so obsessed with someone that she had never even met.

This is getting scarier by the second, Tamara thought as she backed away from the table. After several seconds had passed, she could hear the sounds of her roommate's clock radio going off in her room. She's still here, Tamara thought as the music filled her ears. Not stopping to consider what Belinda's schedule was at this point, Tamara practically ran over to the sofa, grabbed the scarf, her jacket, and purse before bolting from the apartment. As the door slammed closed behind her, she ran down the hall and out the front door; panic written all over her face.

She normally walked to work, her head held high, trying all the while to show people that she was not afraid. Of course, on this particular day, she was terrified and concluded that Bill would notice it the moment she walked into the shop.

As she surmised, after only being at work about twenty minutes, Bill did approach her, his expression laced with concern after she had come very close to dropping a glass container filled with lemon drops on the floor. His steady hands had literally saved her from this brush with disaster.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that you seem really distracted today," he said casually as he placed the jar on the shelf before turning and looking at her.

"I'm fine," she said weakly. "I just didn't get very much sleep last night."

Accepting this as a rational explanation, Bill decided to let her wait on customers throughout much of the morning. Although that did not reap any near-misses, his observations proved that she was not doing well at all.

As the church bell chimed, thus indicating that the noon hour was upon them, Bill came over to where she was standing, his voice making her practically jump out of her skin.

"If that is any indication that you are 'fine' as you noted earlier, than I beg to differ," he said firmly as he pulled the key from his pocket. "Let's close up for lunch and have ourselves a little talk."

She swallowed, oh God, he's going to fire me, I just know it. The feelings were raking havoc on her mind, but instead of voicing these troubling thoughts, she watched as he shooed the last of the customers towards the door, before closing and locking it. Not knowing what to do, she nervously came around the counter and seated herself on one of the stools, her hands nervously rubbing against one another.

By this time, Bill had returned to the counter, but before he could seat himself next to her, he went over to the shelf and grabbed a Wonka Marshmallow Round. Seconds passed before he returned and seated himself next to her. Wordlessly, he slipped the candy into her hand before offering her shoulder a gentle pat.

"You always know what I need," she whispered as she carefully opened the candy and started to nibble on the edge of it. "Thanks Bill."

The candy seller smiled. "It's no trouble," he said, "but Tamara, I'm worried about you. I know there's something on your mind, and I'm not going to take 'I'm fine' as an excuse anymore. You are not clumsy, but yet you nearly dropped an antique jar filled with candy this morning."

"Y-you're not going to fire me because of that, are you?" She asked weakly.

"No, but I am going to insist that you to talk to me. There is something on your mind, and it is more than clear to me that you need a friend," he said. "Aside from that, you know the old saying about how a problem shared can somehow lessen the burden."

"I don't know where to start," she began as she took another bite of the candy, the chocolate soothing her somewhat.

"Well, how about at the beginning?" He asked.

Swallowing the bite, she looked over at the man seated next to her. Inhaling slowly, she allowed herself to exhale as her next words emerged. "It's my roommate."

"Becky, is it?" He asked.

Tamara fiddled with the candy and then looked into the kind eyes of her boss. "No, it's Belinda," she said as her emotions were quickly getting the better of her. At that moment, she could feel the tears as they began to stream down over her face. "Oh Bill, I don't know what to do. I discovered something really scary about her last night and now I'm too afraid to go home."

"Why is that?" He asked.

Tamara began to tell him about what had happened the night before after she had arrived at home. She told him of everything she had seen in the dining room, but refrained from mentioning Neil and how her life somehow mirrored what Belinda was doing to Willy Wonka. As she finished speaking, he was looking at her, his gaze unwavering and his expression laced with intensity.

"Let me get this straight, you're telling me that your roommate is stalking Willy Wonka?" Bill asked.

"I don't know if it's stalking," Tamara began, her voice trembling slightly. She had heard this term used before, but for some reason she literally got chills at the thought of her and Willy being a victims of it. "Isn't that a pretty harsh term?" She asked trying to keep her tone light, contrary to the butterflies that were rampantly flying around in her stomach.

"Tamara, what she is doing is stalking. If for any reason, Willy Wonka were to decide to leave his factory, he would probably feel rather apprehensive about walking about with someone trailing him like that. Any time someone's actions creates a sort of restriction of freedom for another, then it could be considered 'stalking'. I don't even have to add that we are talking about a famous person here. It would be very easy for us to conclude that stalking is what is actually happening. Did you tell Belinda that what she was doing could be construed as awkward, strange, or even against the law?"

"I tried," she said, her voice catching in her throat.

"She didn't listen to you, did she?" He asked.

"No, and I couldn't help but remember all the things you said about Mr. Wonka. It was when you told me the stories about him right after I started working here. You said that he was a kind and caring person, and now I'm really scared for him. The thing is, if you know about him being those things, then is it possible for Belinda to have misconstrued that kindness?"

"I would say that it is more than probable, but Tamara, Mr. Wonka, although a good man, is human. Don't expect him to react to all of this in the most perfect way. He is a social recluse and may not even know how to handle what has been happening to him," Bill said. "Some people do like to be in control of their surroundings, and I imagine that he is that way himself."

"What should I do?" She asked.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing you can do," Bill said. "You could go to the police, but that may not help since it's going to be your word against Belinda's. The thing that will probably need to be done is for Willy Wonka to go there himself and get a restraining order. That may be the only way for him to find any peace of mind in all of this."

"But, I still have to live with her," she whispered.

Bill thought for several moments and then took a deep breath. "This may not help very much, but why don't you go home, grab some of your things, and go stay at a bed and breakfast for a few days. You need a break from all of this, Tamara. If going home scares you to the extent that you indicated, then you need to find a place where you will feel safe. The only thing I can do is give you two days off, but I really need you back here by Friday, OK?"

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice emerging somewhat unconvincingly.

Instead of pressing the issue, the candy seller got off the stool that he was sitting on and went over to the door and unlocked it.

Tamara followed him, but before leaving, she looked at him, her eyes watery. "I'll see you in two days, but not a second sooner," he said gently as he gave her shoulder a fatherly squeeze. "Get yourself sorted out and then you can be back in time to help me with the yearly inventory."

"OK," she smiled weakly. "I really appreciate your help, Bill." Instead of elaborating on this, she stepped outside of the shop and momentarily stopped when she heard the door closing behind her.

Her mind was so preoccupied that she did not even realize that she had forgotten her purse back at the candy shop.

* * *

About twenty minutes after having left the shop, she walked slowly down a crowded street. Deciding that she had no appetite for lunch, she continued to make her way along the promenade. Above her head and hanging lazily in the sky were white puffy clouds, which somehow made her feel just a little bit more relaxed.

Distancing herself from the hustle and bustle of the inner city, she soon reached the outskirts of town. It was her favorite part of the town, quiet and filled with solitude, but there was enough going on that she did not feel ill at ease.

She ran her hand casually through her short blonde hair as she walked in the direction of Willy Wonka's factory. She did not know why it was she was even going there instead of heeding her boss' suggestion about going home and packing. In the back of her mind, however, she could hear the sounds of her father telling her that she should cease running away and try and face the situations that scared her. Of course, she had realized long ago, that everything that had been happening to her was a far cry more than just scary.

It was no secret that Tamara was frightened by what she had heard, but she was also apprehensive at the prospect of going home alone and running the risk of another confrontation with her roommate. One thing was perfectly clear; what Belinda was doing was neither fun nor flattering, instead, it was pretty terrifying.

As she came closer to the factory, her unhidden panic seemed to be mounting by leaps and bounds. A small blob of red immediately caught her attention from several meters away, but as she reached the gate, her eyes widened.

On the thick metal bars that extended vertically from the top of the gate to the ground, hung about ten red heart-shaped balloons. The blue papers that she had seen from the shredded wrappers of Slugworth bars were visible beneath the walls of the translucent objects. Next to them, and carefully hanging, were the candy wrappers that she had seen the night before as well as that morning.

"Oh Belinda, why in God's name are you doing this?" She asked the stillness.

As the resonances of her voice rang in her ears, she could detect the rising anxiety inside of her. She stared transfixed at the balloons and watched as they drifted about with each gust of wind.

Her breathing began to feel heavy as she recalled similar actions being pulled by Neil during the days that followed her breaking up with him.

Feeling the shock and fear wash over her, she reached towards the knot that bound the first balloon to the gate. With trembling fingers, she read the card that hung from the streamer that was tied to it. "If I can't have you, then no one should," were the words she read.

"Oh my God," she whispered under her breath as she dropped the card and tried to loosen the object from the gate.

When she discovered that it was bound too tightly, she stopped and pulled her hand away. She was simply not in the proper frame of mind to contend with this.

Giving up on the task, she started to back slowly away from the gate; her head now lowered to such an extent that she did not see someone had stepped out of the shadows and was now slowly following her.

Unaware of what was happening around her, Tamara began to walk down the sidewalk that led her back in the direction of her and Belinda's apartment building. Feeling the need to get her thoughts straight, she started to follow the path that led away from the sidewalk. It extended down a quiet dirt road that ran along the southern side of the factory grounds and separated it from a nearby park.

Generally it was not a very safe road to take when it was dark outside, but in broad daylight she felt that it was alright. This way she could find a patch of grass to sit down on and try and sort all of this out. That way she would be able to do so without strangers walking by and staring at her.

As she reached the quiet intersection and turned left down the dirt road, she could see that the high wall of the factory loomed to one side, but the light from the sun still shone down on her, the rays almost directly overhead.

She continued to walk, her steps slow and deliberate. Eventually stopping, she rubbed her face with her hands. Along the shadows that lined the walls, she did not see anything out of the ordinary until someone approached where she was standing, reached out, and grabbed her shoulder in a vice-like grip.

Without thinking about what had happened, she screamed, but when she turned around and saw the familiar face of the man she had met several days before, she relaxed somewhat. "Oh my God, it's you," she said, her voice laced with relief. "You just about scared me to death. What are you doing out here?"

The man said nothing, instead, his grip on her shoulder tightened, his eyes emoting something that resembled a mix between resentment and hostility.

Seeing this, Tamara tried to pull herself out of the hold. "Please, let go, you're hurting me." As her voice broke through the stillness of the area, she managed to pull herself out of the man's grasp. Once she was free, she started to run away from him, the shock and fright filling her. When she glanced behind her, the first thing that she noticed was that he was coming after her and gaining quickly.

Within seconds Tamara abruptly felt her body being tripped up by some sort of object. Hitting the ground, she immediately tried to crawl away, but the man reacted quickly, grabbed her foot, and roughly pulled her towards him.

As soon as she could sense that he was next to her on the ground, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. As the panic filled her, she spoke, her voice emerging as a soft plea. "Please, don't hurt me…"

The man said nothing, instead, he cast a glance around the area and upon seeing that they were alone, he pulled her upper torso up so that her head would rested against his chest. Holding her there with one of his arms, he wordlessly reached into his pocket with his other hand and extracted a piece of cloth. He shook it out before taking it and pressing it over her nose and mouth.

As she felt this against her face, she tried to keep from inhaling, but soon found herself gasping as she tried to take in a breath of air. Once this had happened, she was suddenly engulfed in a fragrance that emitted the strange scents that were a mixture between coffee and chocolate. Seconds passed and dizziness suddenly overwhelmed her and her body completely relaxed in the stranger's hold.

What is going to happen to me now? This final question washed over her as she lost consciousness.


	7. Chapter 6: The Deed is Done

_Hello and welcome to the next chapter to this story. I figured I would release you from the cliffhanger, at least somewhat. This is a transitional chapter, and I figured I best get it up so that Victory Starr doesn't die off. Such guilt I cannot fathom enduring, so enjoy the chapter._

_Please review this. This story has two hundred hits thus far, and it is rather sad that while people are reading, they're not reviewing. Please let me know how this is shaping up. It's a rather time consuming process to write these, and as long as I know you are entertained by it, then I will be motivated to continue writing and sharing._

_With that said, my thanks again to my super, duper reviewers. You are all just awesome and I appreciate your comments very much._

_Enjoy this latest installment. The chapter title actually reminds me of one of my favorite musicals, aside from 'Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory' and that is 'The Slipper and the Rose'._

_Happy reading!_

_Edited April 17, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Deed is Done**

Willy felt a surge of triumph washing over him as he watched the girl pass out in his arms. Her body now lay cradled in his hold and he stared down into her unmoving face. Her head was still was resting against his chest, her arms draped over it as though trying to ward him off.

What did she think I was going to do to her? He asked himself as he regarded her motionless body. All this time, he had figured that Belinda would have willingly come to the factory without so much as a struggle. This girl had fought against him, her fright winning out and making her try anything she could just to get away from him.

The chocolatier stared at her, all the while taking in the various aspects of her face. He could not forget her as she had been the girl on the bench whom he had briefly spoken to the night before. Now as he held her in his arms, he pondered what it was he had done. He had resorted to kidnapping.

In the recesses of his mind, he recalled how he had startled her only moments ago. She had looked briefly relieved at seeing that it was he who had approached. His reaction to her words had succeeded in preventing her from running away, the fright that she carried reaching out and literally punching him in the face.

The hardest thing for him now was to accept that this was the person who had been stalking him. He had liked the petite blonde headed woman, her manner the night before just charming and her shyness somehow reminiscent to his own. He had liked her so much that he had come very close to disclosing who he was and insisting on escorting her home. Now, after everything that had happened, he realized that she probably knew his name anyway.

Sighing, he recalled only moments ago when he had startled her. She had turned around and just before her eyes met his, she had looked more frightened than anything he had ever seen. She had been scared, her body language giving off this emotion even before he had approached her. Had she anticipated something happening? He asked himself.

Not fully understanding the mixed signals he had been receiving, the chocolatier had responded in the only way he knew how, he had chased her down and using his cane, had managed to trip her up and cause her to fall hard onto the ground.

Then, when she had tried to crawl away from him, he reached out and grabbed her foot, thus keeping her from getting away. Everything else had happened so quickly after that that his mind was literally spinning. He managed to hold her firmly and then manipulated the cloth of sleeping extract and pressed it firmly over her nose and mouth.

He watched her struggle against his hold until eventually she had quieted and her energy had given out. Now she lay sleeping, her head still resting against his chest, her soft breathing gentle against one side of his face.

He took a deep breath and released it very slowly as he returned the cloth to his pocket.

In most circumstances, he would never have even considered doing something like this to another person. He was not generally someone who intended undue harm to anyone, in fact, most people who knew him described him as being a very gentle man. Now, he realized that he was now responsible for the situation that they had both found themselves in.

Well, he reasoned, it was not entirely caused by me. This girl had written those letters and for now, he felt almost certain that they would cease appearing at his gate. He would once again be able to emerge from the factory as he had done in the past and feel safe out on the streets again. Having taken an offensive action against his tormentor had come as an immense relief to him.

His attention shifted and he cast a brief glance down the road. It was abandoned as it normally was at this hour. This meant that there was no one around to see what had come to pass. He turned his head and noticed that the south side gate entrance was not too far away from where they now were. It was time for him to continue with his intended plan and take her onto the factory grounds.

He laid her body on the ground before slowly getting to his feet and beginning to dust off his clothing. Leaning over, he picked her up and swung her limp body over his shoulder. She was incredibly light, he discovered, perhaps the same weight as the oversized bags of flour that he had often carried around the Inventing Room.

With one hand holding her against his shoulder, he retreated back towards the gate. Part of him hated himself for what he was doing, but the other part knew that it was too late to turn back. Now, regardless of his feelings about this, he would have to get her out of the open.

As he reached the gate, he leaned the cane up against it in order to pull a key from his pocket and stick it into the lock. Turning it, he managed to slip unobserved back inside. Turning around, he reached back through the open door, retrieved the cane before closing, and locking the gate behind him.

Once he had made his way across the deserted courtyard, he entered the quiet confines of the factory and made his way to the nearest Wonkavator stop. This would take him to the other side of the factory to the room that he had selected for his 'guest'.

Seconds later, as his prized invention arrived and the doors slowly opened, he reached out and grasped the door-handle of the flying machine and pulled it open. He entered and seated Tamara on one of the seats, turned back around, closed the door, and finally pressed the button marked 'Guest Wing'. The Wonkavator took off and flew at breakneck speed across the factory.

At that moment, Willy Wonka turned and regarded the face of the girl who was now leaning up against the wall of his invention. His thoughts began to drift, as he contemplated the events of the previous evening. He had watched her eating and sharing Marshmallow Round with him. If this wasn't Belinda H. then it was strangely coincidental that she would be eating the very same candy variety as the woman who had been trailing him.

It must to be her, he thought, but a nagging voice emerged at that moment, thus filling his mind with apprehension. What if it was not the same person? What if he had made a mistake and this girl had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Trying to block out his conflicting thoughts, he looked at her. She was such a petite young-looking lady, and this made Willy start to ponder if his tormentor had simply been someone who had never been properly socialized.

As soon as they had reached their destination, the chocolatier once again picked her up, this time, instead of swinging her over his shoulder, he was more careful. With one arm cradling her upper back and the other, beneath her knees, he carried her out into the corridor. Rounding several corners, Willy reached the door that would lead into the bland beige colored room.

Opening the door, he brought her inside, all the while leaving the door ajar. He crossed the room until he had reached the bed that was along the far wall. Carefully, he laid her on it before turning around. Stopping everything that he was doing, he decided as an afterthought to remove her shoes and scarf. He figured that she could always use the heel of her shoe to assault him and the black scarf was long enough to choke someone. With these objects now in his hand, he made his way slowly towards the door.

He stopped after several moments as his gaze took one last look at the seemingly barren room. It did have all the amenities that she would require. He took several steps until he reached the door, his hand extending out in order to grasp the handle.

There was something strange about her, something that he could not quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was the difficulty that he had in despising her. He could not do it, and yet he knew that although he would have to, it would be increasingly difficult for him to speak hurtful or mocking words to her.

He cast another glance over towards the bed and released a pent up sigh. She looked so innocent in the simple way she was lying there. Shaking his head and trying to get his thoughts straight, his mind was suddenly centered on all the things that she had done to him during the past weeks.

He reached over and turned off the light before leaving the room. Once outside, he closed and locked the door behind him.

* * *

Out in the hallway, Willy's triumphant feelings had somehow shifted and he now felt a strange mixture between satisfaction and unease. These feelings were becoming more and more overwhelming for him. He now had his tormentor right where he wanted her, but at the same instant, he felt as though what he had done had been terribly out of character.

Throughout his life, the chocolatier had never done anything like this to anyone. The Oompa Loompas and even Charlie had been supportive of his taking action, but he pondered if this action was even right. He could not let go of the fact that he would be causing psychological damage to this young woman. Perhaps it would damage her psyche beyond recognition.

This thought alone caused his conscience go completely haywire. He was now uncertain as to whether or not he would be able to go through with this plan at all. Somehow he stood at a crossroads and was now left to ponder whether or not there was a way to actually rectify all of this.

It was no secret that he was quite angry with her, but he wondered if she really deserved this form of revenge. Did this situation merit having her freedom robbed away in order to prove a point?

Of course, there was no denying that her actions had been silly and uncouth yet he started to question how earnest she really was about dating or even marrying him. Anyone who were to have seen the letters and the parcels perhaps knew that while this girl's actions had been thorough, they were also anything but innocent.

For whatever reason, Willy was becoming increasingly angry with himself. Why was he trying to give this girl some kind of rationale for stalking him? Was it because this blonde headed girl, after one casual meeting, had managed to ensnare him?

No, he decided, there was no excuse for what had happened. It was no secret, he had always been someone who demonstrated an element of calm certainty, but lately he was not calm or certain about much of anything. In fact, now he felt as though he was being forced into a vulnerable situation against his will.

Willy Wonka wanted nothing more than to bury those feelings and pretend that they did not exist, yet they did, and even if he was not willing to admit it, they wracked him to the core.

Each and every time the emotions that argued against some sort of counteraction overcame him, he found himself arguing that he was trying to do what he could to protect himself. With all these factors in mind, he asked himself constantly if revenge was the right alternative. Somehow, each time the question ravaged him, the answer seemed to teeter back and forth from 'yes' to a resounding 'no'.

His expression shifted as he cast another glance back down the hall. Instead of contemplating whether or not he was right or wrong with his actions, he took a deep breath, his eyes momentarily closing as he dug in the pocket of his vest and pulled out his watch.

It read that it was now close to one in the afternoon, a good six hours until the girl would perhaps be waking and requiring something to eat. He knew that although he kept her in a locked room, it would serve absolutely no one to subject her to going hungry. He would have to arrange with his cook to make a turkey casserole with peppers and onions for his impromptu 'guest'. This was, after all, Belinda's favorite meal and perhaps it would be a humane sort of gesture on his part to provide her with at least something that she liked.

Instead of contemplating this even further, the chocolatier made his way back down the hall and in the direction of his office. The key to the girl's room was now tucked snugly in the pocket of his vest. His watch was eventually returned to the neighboring pocket.

Once he reached the door with the gold colored writing on it, he entered the room and closed it behind him. As he walked across the room, his gaze came to rest on the various letters that were now scattered across the desk. He stacked the group of them together and stuffed all of them into a drawer. Out of sight is out of mind, he thought sadly.

One thing was pointedly clear, the more he considered all of these things, the more he felt enveloped with hate towards the girl in the Beige Room whom he thought was his stalker.

As this particular emotion literally swallowed him whole, he made the decision to dismiss the doubts and go through with the plan in the exact same manner as he and the Oompa Loompas had devised.

Now that Willy Wonka believed that he had Belinda at the factory, he was more determined than ever to scare her to the exact same degree that she had done with him.

At that moment, he had absolutely no desire nor inclination to play the role of the passive victim any longer.

This was now his moment of truth, and this girl was about to learn that this particular truth was a bitter pill to swallow indeed.


	8. Chapter 7: Waking to Memories

_I figured that I would release you from the cliffhanger a bit more. Although this story hopefully continues to maintain an element of suspense._

_Thanks again to Victory-Starr, YaYa and Ajestice for coming along for the ride. Here's hoping that I am able to keep everyone true to the feeling that has already been set to the story. _

_Please let me know what you think, and do enjoy._

_YaYa, I found the mistake and corrected it, thanks._

_Edited April 17, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 7: Waking to Memories**

The next time Tamara opened her eyes, a frightening and groggy sensation seemed to greet her. She was lying in a dark room; a bitterly dry taste was left in her mouth from whatever it was that had caused her to pass out. She was now unbelievably thirsty, but overriding that, she was disoriented as well as absolutely terrified.

Turning her head, she tried to register where exactly she was. The object she was laying on felt like a bed, albeit a hard one, the cheapness of the mattress uncomfortable to her. She raised her hand and touched her face.

She felt no pain, and she was grateful that although she had hazy recollections of being kidnapped, her memories were still vague. She figured that this person might have bound and gagged her, but nothing like that had transpired; instead, it seemed as though she was simply trapped in a strange and dark place.

Aside from being scared, she felt a strange element of weariness encompass her. It was as though a strange odor somehow permeated the air, thus leaving her to feel as though she had no energy left. Even if she wanted to try and flee from her captor, she was aware that she was too exhausted to do much of anything.

The apprehension mounted as she tried without any success at figuring out where specifically she was. She rubbed her hands over her face, but that rendered no assistance.

"Neil?" She eventually spoke the name of the person whom she perceived to be her tormentor. This simple word emerged as a whisper as she tried to see beyond the darkness that engulfed her. Instead of trying to speak further, she rubbed her face with her hands as she tried to push herself into a sitting position.

She managed to crawl off of the bed, her legs hanging lazily over the side. When her feet eventually touched the ground, she stood up, all the while extending her hands out in front of her. The tips of her fingers stretched out before her trying to give her sight so that she would at least be aware of what sort of place she had found herself in. Although she could see nothing, she was starting to feel as though she had been robbed of her senses. Instead of contemplating this, she started to pad her way across the length of the room.

Reaching the opposite wall, she tried to feel her way towards a door, but as she walked, her knee slammed into a hard, wooden object, which she guessed was a table. Feeling the tears catching in her eyes, and knowing that she would no doubt have a terrible bruise the following day, she continued to make her way around the table and towards where she perceived the door might be.

Tamara soon discovered that her prison was not as small as she had initially thought. The walls seemed to go on forever without giving her any access or indication of a door. Of course, what she did not realize was that she had gotten so turned around after her brush with the table that now she was unable to properly orient herself.

"Oh God, where am I?" She whispered under her breath.

In the back of her mind, she came to realize that this was exactly the same scenario that she had often dreamt about when her nightmares of Neil's psycho-terror had played out. This was a terrible feeling, but a mirrored image of the painful memories that she carried. At least when she had dreams of this kind, she was able to wake up. Right now, the terrifying reality was that she could not wake up, and she was now stuck in the middle of a nightmare.

Somewhere amidst the frightened and terrified thoughts, it had suddenly become clear to her that Neil could not possibly have been the person behind this elaborate setup. She knew his apartment and this place did not even smell like his home. In fact, the faint and musty odor that seemed to permeate the air was as foreign to her as the place itself.

Aside from that, Neil could not have been the mastermind behind such a detailed setup as he was not that smart. She also figured that he would never have tried to do something this terrifying to her since in his own twisted way, he actually wanted to win her back.

As her mind tried to figure all of this out, she tried to get Neil completely out of her mind. If he did not do this to her, then who was it? Who could have possibly done such a thing to her and why?

She took another deep breath as she continued to search in vain for some means of escape. After several seconds, she suddenly heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. Since she could not see anything, she was suddenly encompassed with fright at the thought of being watched.

Without any sort of warning, she began to cry. She did not want to do this, much less show her captor that she was starting to lose her mind, but that was precisely what was happening. Whatever this person intended to do to her, she was starting to wish he would do it as she could not stand having to endure another second of being scared half out of her mind. "Please God, help me," she whispered as she bit down hard on her lower lip, the tears now stinging her eyes. "I'm going crazy…"

As her words somehow started to hang in the air, she suddenly heard the sounds of someone entering the room. The door lightly closed as she reached her hand out in the direction of where the sounds had originated. "P-please d-don't hurt me," she whimpered softly as she sank to the ground. As her head came to rest against her knees, she wrapped her arms around the back of her neck, her next words emerging barely audibly. "I'm s-so scared…"

The person who had entered suddenly stopped, the footsteps ceasing. "You should be," his simple words emerged, the coldness somehow wrapping around her and leaving her chilled to the bone.

"W-who?" She whispered. "I-I m-mean w-why?"

"Why?" The cynical retort was suddenly heard. "You're a fine one to ask."

"N-no," her soft cries continued and she began to tremble. Without speaking further, she backed away from where the voice had originated. Not knowing what else to do, she tried to hedgehog her body into a ball, but even doing that did not seem to make her feel safe or protected. Eventually, she managed to find her voice and speak, the cadences of it wavering with each word. "P-please, t-tell me w-who you are."

"As if you didn't know," the man's voice emerged once again, the sounds of his words hollow and bitter as their distanced coolness filled her ears.

Tamara raised her head slowly. "B-but I-I don't," she whispered all the while knowing that she was probably grasping at straws. She really did not know, but she was too terrified to think straight. "N-Neil?"

No words emerged in response.

Taking this as an affirmative response, she spoke, her words tumbling out without her being able to stop them. "A-are y-you t-that angry with me?" She stammered, the fright that emerged in her voice somehow making both of them stop breathing. Seconds passed and she spoke again, her words now pleading with her tormentor. "I d-didn't do anything, I just left Somerdale and came here. I d-didn't intend to hurt anyone."

"Sure, and when you do leave here, as indeed you must, perhaps you will know how it feels to put another person in such a terrible situation," the man responded harshly.

Tamara reached out her hands in the direction of where the voice had emerged and when she felt the softness of some fabric beneath her touch, she swallowed. "Please, I do know…" she whispered helplessly.

"You know of nothing, Belinda." The words suddenly filled her ears, and Tamara's eyes widened in profound disbelief.

Oh my God, he thinks I'm Belinda, she thought frantically. As these words suddenly surged through her mind, they seemed to be mixed with disbelief and terror. Instead of speaking, she slowly pulled her hand away, the contact with him now broken.

What would he do if he discovered that she was not the person he thought? Instead of pondering this further, she listened as his hostile words continued.

"You have no idea of how much fear and uncertainty you have instilled in another person, but you will," the words emerged filled with spite and before she could so much as offer a response, the man had gotten to his feet and left the room. As the door slammed resolutely behind him, she could hear the sounds of it being locked once again.

"Please," Tamara begged once she was alone, her soft sobs filling the now empty room. "I don't understand…I truly don't."

Instead of getting to her feet, she remained where she was on the floor, her body somehow losing any and all feeling. Still experiencing light-headedness in the wake of the confrontation with her captor, she eventually closed her eyes and fell asleep with her head still bowed over her body.

* * *

When the chocolatier returned to the room several hours later, he turned on the light and found her uncomfortably hunched over her lap and asleep. Sighing, he went over to the table and placed the tray of food on it before starting to walk back towards the door.

He stopped after several moments and simply stared down at her. She seemed to have fallen asleep in this uncomfortable fashion after he had left. Instead of leaving her on the floor, he went over to her and picked her up in his arms so as to move her over to the bed. This time, instead of just leaving her atop the blankets, he covered her with them. His eyes staring down at her face, the lines from her tears having left red streaks along her cheeks. Contrary to all of this, you're still quite pretty, he thought despite his incessant misgivings. He brushed a gentle hand through her hair and backed his way out of the room and closed the door behind him.

I must be getting soft, he thought to himself as he was locking the door. As soon as he was done, he returned the key to his pocket, before shifting his attention to the small thermostat that was next to the door. Turning one of the knobs on the wall, he allowed some cool air to waft into the room. This would perhaps conceal the odors of old papers that seemed to permeate the air in there, he thought with a sigh as he made his way back down the hall. The cool air in the room would also act as a remedy for the sleeping extract he had used on her.

As he made his way back in the direction of his office, his hand was tapping lightly against the cane that he carried. His thoughts were still raking havoc on him as he recalled the confrontation that he had with her. She probably had every right to feel disoriented and frightened, but this silly game of feigned ignorance was starting to annoy as well as confuse him. How could she simply behave in such a fashion and then pretend that nothing was happening? He asked himself.

The young woman was definitely a mystery. She seemed so different than what he anticipated a stalker girl to be like. Of course, he was not about to admit to anyone that he had, for a split second, thought that she was pretty. He figured that it would be a wise idea to keep this information under his hat for the simple reason that the others who lived and worked at the factory had actually seen the impact the cards and letters had been having on him.

Taking a deep breath, Willy opened the door to his office, his eyes closing slightly as he returned to his favorite chair that was parked in front of the desk.

He began to dig through the paperwork that was in front of him, but his thoughts seemed to constantly bring him back to the girl in the beige colored room.

Distracted and unable to continue with his work, he eventually left his office once again and made his way down the hall to the room. He was not quite sure if he was ready to confront her again, but there was no question remaining in his mind, he was quite intrigued by her.


	9. Chapter 8: Turkey and Peppers

_Now that my St. Patrick's day offering is up, I thought I'd go ahead and post this next chapter. Thanks again for my super awesome reviewers. I did decide to write this story because I felt that the topic was serious enough that it would deemed appropriate, so whatever is in it was inspired by something._

_I have dealt with food allergies in my life, and I am drawing the symptoms back to a time when I suffered from an allergy attack and figured that it would be applicable here. I do know of people who do have very extreme allergic reactions to certain foods and things, and while I do get sick by mushrooms, my allergies are not as bad as Tamara's._

_I will just give you the next chapter and say a sincere thanks again to Ya Ya, Ajestice, and Victory Starr. You three totally rock._

* * *

**Chapter 8: Turkey and Peppers**

Soon after Willy had left her alone, Tamara woke up, her eyes taking in the dim light of the room. The first thing she noticed was that someone had brought her to bed and she was covered with blankets. For a split second, she wondered if her captor had returned to the room while she had been asleep. It was considerably colder in the room, and she hated the cold.

Instead of immediately crawling out of bed, she pulled the blankets up closer to her neck as her eyes began to adjust to the light. Now that there was actually light in the room, she began to take in her new surroundings. This room was somewhat bigger than she had surmised, but it was also much smaller than her bedroom at home.

If truth were known, the color made her feel as though someone had gone and dropped her into the psychiatric ward at the local hospital. Did I freak out? She asked herself. With the same disillusionment, she pushed the blanket aside and felt the chilliness of the air surrounding her.

Sitting up, she looked down at her clothing. She was still dressed in her striped shirt and black skirt, her uniform for working at the candy shop. She ran her hand down the sleeve of the shirt before reaching for the black scarf that was generally knotted at her throat. Much to her surprise, this article was gone, as were her shoes. They had both been removed and were nowhere to be seen. It was no wonder that her feet were so cold. She had only silk stockings on and now she was practically freezing.

She turned her head and noticed two doors to her one-room dwelling and slowly she got to her feet and went to the door that was closest to the bed. Pressing down on the lever, she looked into an adjoining bathroom. Turing away, she made her way across the room to the second door. She pressed down on that lever but nothing happened. She was trapped.

At that moment, the sounds of her stomach growling filled her ears and she was left with the realization that it was time for dinner. A silver tray with a large lid suddenly caught her attention and she took a deep breath before making her way over to the table.

It seemed clear that her captor had left it there for her, the warmth that emanated from it indicative that it had been brought recently. She reached over and gripped the small handle before raising it up.

An unappetizing odor wafted up and touched her nose. She took a deep breath and turned away from the tray. The meal was turkey casserole with peppers and onions. She did not like cooked onions at all, they were slimy and disgusting. Aside from that, she was highly allergic to peppers, they made her skin break out in a rash as well as caused here agonizing cramping and nausea. The last time she had actually eaten them, she got deathly ill and had to be hospitalized for several days.

This was one distinctive difference between herself and her roommate. Belinda loved peppers and it did not matter how one prepared them, she could devour them without so much as a second thought.

Feeling a flood of nausea engulfing her, Tamara replaced the lid and went over to the bed and sat down, the blanket she grabbed and wrapped around herself. "If there was actually something in my stomach," she whispered softly, "then I would have emptied it right here and now."

She was so hungry and after having skipped lunch, she was feeling almost dizzy from lack of sustenance. While she knew that her unknown captor was not aware of her food allergy, it felt as though he was tormenting her nonetheless. Neil had known that she could not eat peppers, and even he was not that cruel. Or was he?

At the same instant, the man who had confronted her had called her 'Belinda', so was it possible that he had mistaken her for her roommate when he abducted her? One of her last memories before this turn of events was when she was trying to remove the balloon from the gate at the front of the factory. Could it be that her captor had actually planned this horror trip for her roommate and this just happened to have been a case of mistaken identity?

Whatever it was that happened, she had seen enough murder mysteries on television. She was well aware of the fact that there was no way to determine what would happen to her when he eventually discovered that he had gone and kidnapped the wrong person. Would he do something horrible to her to hinder the chances of her filing charges against him?

As these thoughts filled her mind, she still could not figure out what to do. Oh God, her thoughts suddenly made her breathing stop. Could the person who held her captive be Willy Wonka? Could Belinda have scared him to such a degree that he would do anything to get back at the one who had been terrorizing him? If he thought she was Belinda, then that meant…

Her horrified thoughts drifted off and she ran over to the door, her fists beating against it as her frantic words pierced the air. "Let me out," she cried hysterically. "For God's sake please someone let me out!"

What she did not expect was for the door to abruptly open and a strangely dressed man to appear on the other side. Wordlessly, he pitilessly pushed her back into the confines of the room before coming in and closing the door behind him.

"No one can hear you, so you might as well cool it with this silly tirade," he said, all the while trying to keep his voice controlled.

Tamara shook her head in profound disbelief; this was the man that she had seen on the bench. Was he the one who was responsible for her being here? She backed several steps away from him, her eyes regarding him in absolute terror. "W-why am I here?" She asked, her voice trembling. "What d-do you want with me?"

He did not speak, instead he continued to regard her through icy blue eyes.

Instead of immediately speaking, she began to take in his appearance. He was as handsome at that moment as he had been when they had shared the Marshmallow Round on the bench the night before. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the smile. The night before his eyes had been bright and his expression gentle. Now he just looked cold, cold and distanced. She eventually began to take in his clothing. Instead of being dressed inconspicuously, he was dressed in eccentric clothing as well as a top hat.

Her thoughts were virtually reeling by this time. Instead of immediately speaking, she wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to think of something to say. Eventually, she found her voice and raised her head so as to meet his piercing gaze. "What did I do to made you do this to me? D-did I offend you?"

"If you don't know the answer, then don't expect me to tell you," he said as he literally stared her down.

"But, I couldn't have done what you said, I don't really know you. W-we only met once outside last night," she whispered. "Please, just look in my purse and you'll see that my name is Tamara Jenkins. I'm not Belinda."

The man turned and looked at her, his gaze stony. "You did not have a purse when I found you, and if you think for even an instant that I am going to fall for that old trick, then you are vastly mistaken," he said coolly.

"But I'm telling you the truth," she objected. "Please, you've got to believe me, my name is Tamara, my roommate's name is Belinda."

"Can you prove that what you are saying is true?" He asked.

She shook her head, her eyes filled with hopelessness. "No, if my purse isn't here, then I can't."

"Well then, I think that it is rather pointless for us to continue along those lines of argumentation," he said, his voice the epitome of calmness. Instead of speaking further, he walked over to the tray and lifted the lid. Replacing it after several seconds, he regarded her somewhat mockingly. "Why won't you eat this?" He asked. "Are you afraid that the food might be poisoned?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I do not poison my guests."

"I am not your guest," she whispered as she turned away from him, her next words filled with insolence. "I'm your prisoner."

Willy took a deep breath and spoke, his voice no longer filled with anger, instead it emerged impassive. "There is nothing in this food that will harm you."

"But there is," she objected, her voice losing a great deal of its assertiveness.

"What?"

"I can't eat what you brought because I'm deathly allergic to peppers," she whispered. "The last time I ate them, I ended up in the hospital for three days."

"Is this another trick?" He asked. "In your letters you explicitly said otherwise."

"It's not a trick and I didn't write you any letters," she cried out, her voice wavering. "I don't even know you, why would I send you mail?"

"Don't hand me that line," he snapped as he started to walk towards her. Instead of facing his advance, she cowered away from him, thus causing him to abruptly stop. As his hostile words hung in the air, a realization suddenly hit him. She was terrified that he was going to hit her. Taking a deep breath he regarded her as his next words emerged. "Do you honestly think I'm going to strike you?" He asked, the simple cadence of his voice causing her to raise her head slightly.

"I-I don't know that," she confessed her voice meek. Instead of elaborating on this, she closed her eyes and tried to back herself slowly away from him. If he was capable of abducting her then he was surely capable of anything. At that moment, she was not ready to put anything past him.

"I do not hit women," he said simply, but regarded her meaningfully. "Even those who may deserve a good lashing for the hell they've put me through."

She watched as he walked over to the food, his hand reaching out and lifting the lid. As the horrible odors once more engulfed her, she backed further away. Turning back around, he looked at her. "You said in your letters that your favorite dish was turkey casserole and peppers, so I tried to at least accommodate you in that way."

"That's Belinda's favorite," Tamara said softly, "not mine."

"Well, let me put it this way," he said, trying to ignore the words she had spoken. "I don't care what you do with this, it will probably do you far more good eaten than sitting in this tray. Ultimately, it's your choice."

"I can't eat it, you might as well take it away," she whispered as she looked at him. "You think I'm Belinda, but I'm not. You think I can eat that, but I can't. I'm allergic to it. Don't you understand?" She could tell that his gaze was filled with skepticism. Not knowing what to do next, she took a deep breath and waited.

"I understand things like food allergies, I simply don't believe a word you say," he said icily. "The only way I might actually believe you would be if you were to eat this and then get sick from it."

Tamara bit down on her lip. "OK, you win," she whispered, her words laced in enmity. She slowly walked over to the tray and picked up the fork. Figuring that this was the only way in which to appease him, she slowly lifted the lid and forked herself a bite of the meat.

Instead of stopping her, he watched as she quietly ate several bites of the food before replacing the lid.

As soon as she had replaced the silverware, she turned around, her eyes now on him. More than anything, she wanted to ask him if he was satisfied, but instead she remained where she was, all the while, half expecting him to say something.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He asked coyly as he went over and picked up the tray and started back towards the door. "See you tomorrow, Belinda."

With that, he left the room. Once he was gone, she took a deep breath and grabbed the bottle of water that was still on the table. Drinking down the entire contents of it, she returned to the bed, pulled back the covers and crawled beneath them.

Her last thoughts before falling into a anxious slumber seemed to be centered on her heartfelt hope that she would not wake up the following morning sick.

It was clear that after having choked down some of that food, that she might be left contending with the after effects of food contamination. She had eaten none of the peppers, but she had ingested something that they had touched, and that was bad enough.


	10. Chapter 9: The Morning After

_Here's the chapter that some of you may be waiting for. Before you go into this, this chapter has a lot of aspects based on personal experience, that is the rash that Tamara wakes with is very much the same as what I had when I experienced an allergic reaction several years ago. So, while it may seem a bit harsh, what I have written, they are based on real yuck-o feelings I had back when._

_I want to thank my reviewers again, it's people like you that persuade me to continue with these stories, so my gratitude is there._

_Enjoy the latest installment, and if you have any questions about it, just ask._

_YaYa, the corrections you found were done, thanks._

* * *

**Chapter 9: The Morning After**

As Tamara wearily opened her eyes the following morning, she did not have to look in the mirror to know what was the matter with her. She was now sick, her stomach queasy, and her body was covered in red welts. Her attempts at avoiding the peppers the night before were for naught. She was nauseated and her skin itched like crazy. She knew internally that this would be hard to conceal from her captor, but for whatever reason, she was more than determined to try and do just that.

After several minutes had passed, she clapped her hand over her mouth, crawled out of bed, and headed straight for the bathroom. Reaching the toilet, she raised the lid and leaned over it, the reminders of the night before abruptly falling into the pool of water below. Straightening out, she realized that perhaps it would not be that easy for her to keep this a secret.

She then flushed the toilet and turned towards the sink. Since the bottle of water was now empty, her attention shifted to the sink and she turned on the water. Cupping her hands beneath the running tap, she began to guzzle as much of the cold liquid as she could. Finishing, she turned off the water and wiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

Leaving the room, she slowly started to make her way back over towards the bed. With each step she took, the dizziness because more noticeable and she could feel the tears of agony streaming down over her swollen cheeks. Never again would she allow a growling stomach and her overwhelming pride do to her what she did last night.

As she reached the bed, she allowed herself to completely collapse against the coldness of the sheets. At that same moment, her spinning head fell back against the pillow. She remained there until she heard the sounds of keys jingling and someone unlocking the door.

Grabbing the blankets she pulled them up so that they covered half of her face, but watched through half-closed eyes as the curly headed man walked into the room. Pretending to be asleep, she waited for him to place the tray on the table and simply leave, but he did not.

Instead, just as soon as the tray was placed on the table, he approached the bed and stared down at where she lay. His eyes widened somewhat as he regarded her, but wordlessly, he leaned over her and rested his wrist against her forehead.

Upon feeling the coolness of his hand against her feverish face, Tamara inhaled sharply all the while trying to discretely back away from his touch. She knew that he was merely testing her temperature. After all, that was what her mother used to do when she had been a child complaining of illness and claiming that she was unable to go to school.

She allowed her eyes to close, thus blocking out the contours of his face.

"Are you unwell?" His words eventually emerged, the softness of his voice somehow showing a more tender side of his character. This seemed a far cry different than how he had addressed her the night before.

Despite her willing herself not to, Tamara knew that her intrigue about this man was increasing, but at the same instance, she was more than determined to keep him from somehow winning her over. There was no denying that he had kidnapped her, and it no longer mattered to her if he was friendly or not. To her, he was nothing more than her enemy. Right at that moment, she felt emotionally torn between rage and trepidation.

"I know you're awake," he spoke again, his voice abruptly bringing her out of her reverie. Although his words seemed to be etched in the same warmness as he had initially used, there were now traces of impatience in them.

Unwillingly, Tamara's eyes slowly opened. He probably hates the fact that I am sick and he cannot torture me today, she thought bitterly. Instead of seeing that sort of regret in him, what she saw in his soft blue eyes looked as though he was concerned for her well being.

She remained completely silent, but terrified she gripped the blankets when he leaned over and looked down at her. "Answer me, Belinda, are you unwell?" Somehow, he knew what the answer to that question was going to be, but for whatever reason, he wanted to hear it from her.

Against her better judgment, the young woman in the bed offered a weary nod, but not so much as a word emerged from her. She did not even try and correct him with the names, instead, she remained where she was, her body now pressed up against the wall.

Willy sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands he clasped together as he regarded her, his eyes somehow shrouded in mystery.

Although Tamara did not notice anything about this, it seemed overtly clear that there was an internal battle raging inside of him that he wished not to share. The question as to whether or not to continue with his plans were now at the forefront of his contemplations.

Tamara decided to play that angle for all it was worth. She hoped that in due time, he would recognize that she was not who he surmised and would let her go.

Of course, regardless of the choices and decisions that this man would make regarding her, the truth remained that she was now very sick. Her episode in the bathroom prior to his entering the room was proof enough to that. Perhaps now he might actually believe me, she thought sullenly.

As these thoughts filtered about her mind, she could almost feel her stomach beginning to cramp and she was left willing herself to not to get sick all over again. After several minutes, she knew what was coming. Instead of moving, she merely wrapped her arms around herself and began to scratch the welts that covered her skin. Her whole body itched so badly that she wanted nothing more than to just scratch every last inch of herself.

Of course, after several seconds had slowly ticked by, her body seemed to have another plan in mind. She was about to go through another episode and it seemed blatantly clear that she had to get to the bathroom fast.

As the world began to spin around her, she closed her eyes as the tears began to slowly stream down her face. Without any sort of warning, she shoved the blankets aside, crawled away from him so as to make a mad dash towards the bathroom. What she did not expect was for her foot to get caught in the bedding and send her sprawling onto the floor.

Hitting the cold surface of the tiled floor, she groaned, but started to crawl across the room on all fours in the direction of the bathroom.

Much to her dismay, she did not make it. Halfway between the bed and her intended destination, the nausea won out and the room was consumed in the sounds of her gagging.

Willy watched as the young woman's concealed illness made itself known on the floor right in front of him. As this pungent odor filled his nostrils, he felt an unconscious pang of compassion washing over him.

There, on the floor, Tamara sat, her body quivering uncontrollably, the humiliation all around her. It was at that moment that she realized she could no longer conceal this from him. That, in addition to the fact that she was more frightened than she had ever been in her life. Now that it was culminated by the illness, she knew that she needed help. Still deathly afraid, she felt hopelessness literally swallow her whole and instead of doing anything else, she covered her face with her hands and began to weep bitterly.

After several moments had passed, she lowered her hands, but she raised her head in order to look up at him, her sorrowful eyes now red and puffy as they met his. In that brief moment, she tried with all her might to beseech him to spare her from any further torment or suffering. The sickness was making her feel lightheaded and that mixed with disorientation made getting back to the bathroom close to impossible. As opposed to crawling towards it, she was now inching herself away from it, and over towards the table. Eventually, she stopped moving as her body practically crumbled to the floor in weariness and exhaustion.

Willy slowly got to his feet as the soft sobs of the woman drew him over towards her. If there was one thing the confectioner did not like, it was to see someone suffering to the extent that was happening here. He still did not know if she was telling him the truth about who she was, but it was more than clear to him that she needed help. He decided at that moment that plan or no, this treatment was too immoral for him to continue. She may have hurt him, he rationalized, but at that moment, she had already suffered enough.

Reaching where she was sitting, he crouched down in front of her, the smells that emanated her almost unbearable. Swallowing his revulsion he reached out and rested both of his hands on her shoulders. "It's alright," he whispered. "You're not alone, let me help you get to the shower so you can clean up."

As these words emerged, Tamara opened her eyes and raised her head. Instead of speaking, she nodded helplessly, the hot tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Willy took both of her hands and managed to pull her to her feet. Gently, he put an arm around her and could feel her collapsing against the firm hold he now had on her. Closing her eyes, she felt herself being steered back in the direction of the bathroom.

Once inside the smaller room, Willy looked down at her. "Do you still feel nauseous?"

Instead of verbally responding to this question, she simply shook her head and watched as he opened the door that would lead into the shower. With a reassuring hand under one of her elbows, he watched as she stepped over the edge and into the small enclosure. "Once I leave, you can remove your clothes and toss them over the door. I will go and find you something to put on. Will you be alright on your own?"

She nodded weakly and waited until he had left the bathroom before she closed the shower door and turned on the water. Since her clothes were dirty, she allowed the water to wash over them.

After several moments of simply standing in the middle of the shower, she began to strip and allowed the pieces to sit at the bottom of the stall for several moments while she tried to wash the humiliation away.

After several minutes, she wrung out the articles of clothing before depositing them outside the small enclosure. Next, she reached for a bar of soap and began to wash it gently over her itchy skin. As she did this, the soft pain-filled moans emerged from between her quavering lips.

* * *

At the same time Tamara was showering, Willy's stepped out into the hall and started to look for the clothing that she would require. His eyes momentarily closed as he once more felt the guilt washing over him. He had verbally forced her to eat the food the night before, and now she was very sick, just as she had foretold.

The young woman had been in his factory for less than twenty-four hours and now she looked positively terrible. While her face was still extremely pale, the red blotches were unmistakable. They seemed to cover every trace of skin that was on her and this had to have been alarming and very painful for her when she woke that morning. He could recall the moment she had looked up at him, her gaze filled with terror, as though she was an animal just waiting for her keeper to persecute her.

This made Willy feel all the worse about what he had done. He could tell that she was terrified of him, and contrary to the fact that she had taken ill, he could understand these emotions particularly well.

Once he had retrieved a towel from the cabinet in the corridor, he began to search through the cupboards for something the girl could put on. As he found a shapeless beige colored shift and light blue bathrobe, he sighed. This will have to do for now, I'll have to ask Charlie's mother if she has some extra clothing that this young lady could borrow. I can't expect her to put on what she had been wearing since she had gotten sick all over it.

As he came back into the room, his thoughts continued to drift. I will have to take her to another room and see about cleaning this one up, he thought with an adamant shake of his head. It stinks to high heaven in here.

He returned to the bathroom, the first thing he noticed was the steam from the shower had successfully fogged everything up. Grateful for that, he took a deep breath, his back now facing the shower doors. "Hello?" He called out to her, not quite certain at this point which name he should use, so he opted to keep things generic. As his single word hung in the air, he waited for her to respond.

"Y-yes," she managed to speak over the running water, her voice trembling, the panic and humiliation still laced in the single word.

"I found you something to put on," he said as he placed the clothing and the towel on the toilet. It seemed clear to both of them that he was not yet ready to buy her story about not being Belinda.

"T-thank y-you," her soft response emerged.

Without thinking about what he was doing or why, Willy nodded, but at the same moment, he reached for a small bucket. After filling it with water from the sink, he grabbed a rag and started towards the door. "I'll wait out in the room for you," he said as he exited the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. Wordlessly, he poured some of the water onto the floor and began to clean the spot where Tamara had taken ill.

As soon as he had finished, he shoved the bucket over to the side of the room and waited. Even after having cleaned up the floor, he noticed that it still stunk inside the desolate room.

Before too much time had passed, the water in the adjoining room was abruptly shut off. After several more minutes, Tamara soon emerged; her blonde hair now wet and plastered down over her head as though she was wearing a helmet. Her arms hung limply down over her sides, her tiny hands practically disappearing from beneath the folds of the robe. "It's gone?" She whispered all the while not really certain if she felt sick or relief at the fact that the floor was now clean.

Willy nodded. "I took care of it," his casual words emerged. Instead of elaborating on this, he picked up the bucket and went into the bathroom with it. Seconds later, the sounds of its contents being flushed away could be heard out in the room. After several moments had passed, he once again emerged with the bucket in his hands. Inside it this time were Tamara's clothes, as well as a the rag and the towel.

By this time, she had managed to crawl onto the bed and hide herself under the covers. With her head once more leaning back against the pillow, she spoke, her words laced in delirium. "Everything is spinning…"


	11. Chapter 10: Willy's Realization

_Hello again. I didn't expect to have this chapter up before Easter, but I figured that I would go ahead and post it and then start preparing for Easter. I will probably not be back here until Tuesday, since Sunday and Monday are holidays here, and it is also our wedding anniversary. There's a lot of stuff going on, so forgive my not being able to post. Maybe some of you folks can find the time to review this._

_Thanks to Victory Starr and YaYa for the continued support and hope that everyone reading has a happy Easter (if you celebrate it)._

_Please review. I recently received a review that made me realize that after getting really into a story and developing the characters and plot that some people don't like it, or critiqued it with suggestions to change it around. That's all fine and good, but it's too little too late. I can't go back and completely change the whole story dynamic around just to suit the critique of one reviewer._

_The point is, if you have ideas about this story, I am open to suggestions, but will make the ultimate decisions as to what happens here, and hope you guys can trust me on that. Please understand that if you want to share something with me about the story, that I am open your ideas, but you have to tell me before we reach page 100. I cannot very well change the story around no matter how much you might want me to do so. I can try and at least be objective enough to respond in a fair manner. Critiques are fine, but trying to change the story or characters well into the plot and making alterations to the plot or characters is an unrealistic expectation._

_For the time being, I am going to continue where inspiration dictates and will not pay said critiques any mind. This is why I ask that people review, so that I know that the story is going at a good pace._

_With that said, thanks again to those reviewing and enjoy the latest installment._

_Edited April 18, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Willy's Realization**

Instead of continuing to mess with the soiled clothes, Willy opted to leaving the bucket against the wall. I'll have someone come for this, but right now, I have to get her out of here. Whoever this girl is, she most definitely needs help, and she needs it urgently. He came over to the bed, his hand he extended towards her, his stance now calming. "Would you accept my help?"

She raised her head. "I feel…so sick…"

"I know," he said, his words simple. "Listen, I want to help you, but I will not unless you consent to my assistance."

At that moment, she did not have to be told twice. Without warning, she nodded her head as she reached out towards him. As soon as she felt his hand grasping hers, she could feel him pulling her gently out of the bed.

"W-what are y-you d-doing?" She whispered as she felt herself being picked up and carried.

"I'm taking you to another room, this one is not fit for man or beast," he said calmly.

Instead of objecting to these actions, she collapsed against his hold, her head now coming to rest against his shoulder. "I'm so scared…" she whispered brokenly as her voice trailed off, and she breathed in the scent of chocolate. Contrary to the events that had happened, his clothes seemed to emanate the very same fragrance that she often smelled each day when she went to work at the candy shop. "Please don't hurt me," her words emerged once again, her plea somehow taking one last blow at his conscience.

"I won't," he said. "I'm just taking you to another room so that you can get some rest." As these words emerged, his thoughts drifted. Perhaps he had been wrong all along. This girl was not Belinda. A person who loved turkey and pepper casserole would not have experienced such a reaction to it as this. It seemed blatantly clear that her illness had been caused by the food that he had given her the night before.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled down at her, but watched as her head turned and buried itself against his chest. "I tend to carry you far more than let you walk on your own," he mused softly.

Seconds later, her body slumped against his hold and lay limp in his arms. If this was a sign of her beginning to trust him, Willy was not exactly certain as to how to take it. One thing that he did know was that as he walked, the more uncertain he became. These fears and concerns were somehow compounded when an out of breath Oompa Loompa raced up to him, the shorter man's eyes seeking his.

"Mr. Wonka," he began as he tried without much success at catching his breath, "This young lady did not send the letters. It was someone else."

"Are you sure?" Willy stopped walking and stood stationary in the corridor.

"Yes, Charlie said he saw another girl, one with darker hair standing at the gate as he was leaving for school," the Oompa Loompa reported. "He watched as she tossed something into your mailbox. Sensing that something was monumentally wrong, your apprentice returned inside and informed Naibouli of it. In turn, our leader recovered the object and we opened it. Inside was similar paraphernalia as had been sent during the past several weeks. It would seem that the woman who has been tormenting you is still beyond the gates of the factory and we have seized the wrong lady."

Willy took a deep breath as he looked down at the girl who lay dormant in his arms. Without trying to rectify what had happened the day before, he shifted his gaze and looked at the Oompa Loompa. "Would you please go and retrieve the red cocoa bean extract from the Inventing Room and bring it to the 'Rainbow Light' room immediately? Once that is done, perhaps you could go and retrieve the items from the bucket in the Beige Room and have them laundered."

The worker nodded and walked away as Willy looked down at Tamara's face. "You had been telling the truth," he whispered under his breath. "But, I was a fool and didn't believe you."

With a sad, but ironic smile shadowing his face, he made his way down the hall and when he reached the door that led into the room, he opened it before carrying her inside. As soon as he had cleared it, he used the back of his foot, and gently kicked the door closed behind him.

He crossed the room and when he reached the bed, he pulled back the covers before laying her gently on it. Once she was lying amidst the pillows and blankets, he carefully tucked her in.

Taking another staggering breath, he went over and grabbed a book from off the shelf before returning and seating himself next to the bed. As he sat there waiting for her awaken, his thoughts were literally racing. Eventually, he realized that he could not read anything and cast the book aside. I have done something so dreadfully wrong to you, he thought as his gaze started to take in the color and light of the room around him. He sincerely hoped that his bringing Tamara to this room would give way to some more happy feelings and sensations. Heaven only knew that he had already given her enough of the contrary.

After several moments of sitting in apt silence and contemplation, he watched as she slowly began to stir, her eyes wearily opening. He watched as she tried to acclimate herself to the new surroundings, her tongue raking softly over her lips.

"W-what happened?" She mumbled; her voice filled with fear when she realized that she was no longer in the dull and boring room, but instead was now somewhere else. She slowly began to take in the room and discovered that she was lying on a bed in a room that looked enchanted enough to belong in a fairy tale.

As her frightened gaze eventually met his, she bit down on her lip, but waited for him to respond. She half expected him to get angry with her and start yelling again. She warily closed her eyes, but when he spoke, they opened once again.

"You passed out," he said, all the while choosing to not offer any further information. He nervously started to wring his hands together.

"A-and you helped me?" She asked, her voice still weak, and he assumed that it would remain as such until she got over the illness that she was now suffering from. Of course, he could tell that she was still afraid of him, and that it would probably take some time for her to move beyond the events of the night before. Instead of voicing this, she began to scratch her arms.

"Yes," he nodded as he looked down at her face. Instead of speaking further about what he had done, he motioned towards the redness that spotted her skin. "What are all those spots?"

"Hives," she whispered. "It's an allergic reaction from food contamination."

"Food contamination?" He whispered. "I know about allergies, but I still don't understand."

"The food from last night touched the peppers," she began. "I s-said that I was allergic to peppers." As if to emphasize her point, she continued to scratch her arms.

"You were telling me the truth, in other words," he said softly, his expression laced in unhappy acceptance. "And I didn't believe you."

She nodded. "Yes, but the impacts would have been a lot worse had I actually eaten one of the peppers."

"You didn't eat any of them?" He asked. "And yet, you still look like this?"

Tamara nodded. "Anything that touches the peppers is going to be contaminated by them. My allergies are really intense, if I so much as eat a pepper, the doctor says I could die. For me, it's like swallowing poison."

Willy cringed at the analogy. "I didn't intend for that."

"You didn't?" She asked. Her voice remained uncharacteristically calm, even though her heart was hammering loudly in her chest. "L-last night, I noticed how y-you seemed to delight in tormenting me with it. In all honesty, I have no idea of what you are capable of doing.

"No," he whispered. "I know that you think very little of me, but I can assure you that I am not a killer."

"I-I don't know what you are," she managed to speak, her blunt words stabbing at him. "That is, aside from being a kidnapper w-who locked me in a room against my will." Frightened, she looked away.

"Tamara I…" he began, his voice trailing off.

She took a deep breath. "Well, at least you know my name, Mr. Wonka."

"You know who I am?" He asked. "But you said that you didn't before."

"I didn't, I only figured it out after you called me 'Belinda' last night," she whispered. Before she could stop herself, her next question emerged. "Are you going to let me go?"

He took a deep breath, all the while not sure about what to say next. He lowered his head, the curly hair that domed it somehow blocking her from seeing his face. After several minutes, he raised his head a second time, his blue eyes seeking hers. "Just as soon as you are well enough to return home, then you may go."

"I could go to the police and tell them what you did to me," she whispered.

"I know and I would harbor no ill will towards you for doing so," he said with obvious defeat in his voice. After several moments of silence had passed, he took a deep breath. "Tamara, would you explain something to me?"

"Why?" She asked.

"I don't know why, I just thought I'd ask because I'm really confused right now," he began. "Last night I heard you say the name, Neil."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought initially that you were hired by him to do this to me, that you had been trailing me. I mean; when we spoke the other night, and then I saw you just before…" her voice trailed off and she shuddered.

Willy nodded, but instead of speaking, he waited for her to continue.

"…When you called me 'Belinda', I realized that I was mistaken." She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, her energy now spent.

"I suppose you know that when all of this happened, I was thinking that you were Belinda," he began, all the while shaking his head with disbelief. "Then I saw you messing with the balloons at the front gate and I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I thought that you were the one who had been putting them there."

Tamara shook her head. "I was trying to get rid of them hoping that you wouldn't see them. I guess I was too late." As those words emerged, she bit down on her lower lip as the tears streamed down over her cheeks.

He nodded as he took a deep breath. "Do you still feel nauseous?" He asked.

"A little bit, but all my allergy medicine is at home, so I guess I'll just have to live with it," she whispered.

"I don't know if this will help you, but one of my workers is retrieving some medicine and hopefully that will make you feel better," he said.

She nodded, but instead of immediately speaking, she wearily closed her eyes. "You know, I didn't expect any of this to happen."

"Nor did I," he said as he took a deep breath before reaching over and touching one side of her fevered face. "I'm going to do what I can to make all of this up to you, though."

She nodded slowly just before drifting off to asleep.

Seconds later, the Oompa Loompa entered the room and brought over a small red colored vial. "Is this the medicine against allergies?" He asked.

"Yes," the worker said with a nod. "Although it may not completely cure her, it should at least take care of the nausea."

Seconds later, the worker left, thus leaving Willy alone. The chocolatier turned back to face her. At that moment, there was no question remaining in his mind, the guilt he now carried seemed without measure.


	12. Chapter 11: Life's Confusing Paradoxes

_I figured that I would go ahead and get this posted. I don't have much to say, this chapter really took a great deal out of me in writing it. My very patient husband deserves a great deal of gratitude as I had to read it aloud to him three different times to find all the mistakes, and tweak them out of here. I suppose the reason is that I like to write believable antagonists, but somehow this was a lot harder for me to write than I initially assumed._

_As for my reviewers, thanks to each of you for giving this your thoughts. First to La Vik. It's so nice to see another fellow Wilder Wonka writer here. Thanks so much for taking the time to read this, and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as much as I am enjoying yours._

_YaYa, because of your review, I'm really trying to make sure that the story keeps a realistic edge to it, so yeah, it's important for her to forgive, but not too quickly. She will have to go through her own contending with things…but that comes later._

_Right now, as Victory Starr asked, what was going on with Belinda…well, girlfriend, you're about to find out. I hope that the surprises I have in store will be good. This story is becoming quite long, but it's one that means a great deal to me for personal reason. Thanks for giving it a go._

_Ajestice, I will be trying to come up with good ways in which Willy can make things up to her, but that will have to come a bit later. I don't want to rush things. _

_So, with that said, here's hoping that you all enjoy the latest installment. I like giving Bill a larger role in this story than initially intended. He just was such a nice character in the movie and deserves it._

_Enjoy and please review._

_Edited April 19, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 11: Life's Confusing Paradoxes**

At the same instant that Tamara was sleeping soundly in the room at Willy's factory, Belinda had just left one of the many candy shops in town with a cloth bag in her hands and a determined look on her face. Her intentions were to buy as many of the Wonka Marshmallow Rounds as she could get her hands on.

After having visited three different shops and finding only a small number of the candy she was looking for, she decided to stop by the shop where Tamara worked. She knew that her roommate was employed there, but she had resolved herself to feigning ignorance as a means in which to influence the man in the pin-striped shirt who owned the shop. Maybe he would know where her elusive roommate had disappeared to.

How was it that Tamara had reacted in such a caring manner about a man whom she claimed to not even know? What if she really did know Willy Wonka? Belinda asked herself. Perhaps that was the reason why she was starting to have such paranoid suspicions about her roommate in the first place.

Ever since Tamara happened to find the evidence of her secret project scattered across the dining room table, Belinda had wondered why she had not even seen her roommate. In fact, she had stood and watched as the younger of them left to go to her room and lock herself away for the night.

It was no secret, Belinda Hutchinson had never really fallen in love. In fact, her experiences with men seemed to border on nights watching old movies with a box of tissues and a package of her favorite chocolate Marshmallow Rounds nearby. The actions that were taken in the movies always seemed to work, so why would they not work with her? Aside from quotations from films, she had composed poetry as well as copying words of love straight from classic literature.

Belinda knew precisely what she was doing and contrary to Tamara's assertions, love letters and gifts were intended to be flattering, not offensive. After all, what was she doing besides giving the man of her dreams everything that she could? She simply wanted nothing more than to shower him with her affection and have said things returned.

What she could not understand was why he had yet to reciprocate such loving intentions.

Among other things, Belinda was completely convinced that she was doing nothing wrong. In fact, she was following the suggestions from the movies almost to a 't'. 'Never give up' and 'always be willing to give fate a little nudge', were the philosophies that she had internalized.

Ever since the day Belinda had laid claim to Willy Wonka, she had become jealous of anyone who showed even the slightest interest in the reclusive chocolatier. To this woman's twisted way of thinking; he belonged to her.

As she walked, her feet shuffled along the ground as her thoughts drifted back to Tamara. There was no question in her mind, her roommate was behaving in a very strange and unsupportive manner. If she did not know any better, the negative words that Tamara had spoken obviously stemmed from incurable jealousy and immaturity. After all, it had been Belinda's idea to ensnare Willy Wonka and not Tamara's.

It is not my fault that I had the idea first, she thought with a smug smile. Just because Tamara has no boyfriend of her own, does not mean that she has the right to act so negatively about my good fortune.

While Belinda had completely convinced herself that she was doing nothing wrong, she did not let go of the assertion that any rationally-minded person would never have reacted as Tamara had done. In fact, the younger woman's actions still remained a mystery.

As the sounds of her slopping footsteps brought her back to the present, Belinda's thoughts continued to drift. Tamara had left without her umbrella, which she never did. Of course, that did not stop Belinda from contemplating why it was she had not even seen Tamara at home for more than twenty-four hours.

By this time, Belinda had finally reached the door leading into Bill's candy store. The shop was still open, and it would remain as such until the next hour was due to strike. This would give her a good ten minutes.

She opened the door and calmly walked inside. Approaching the long counter that extended along the back wall of the shop, she stopped and observed the dark-headed man who was working there. In his hand, he held a jar of the rainbow colored Everlasting Gobstoppers. The star-shaped objects somehow beckoning her to come closer.

As she did, she noticed that he was focused on what looked to be an inventory list. His gaze would shift from the list to the candy and back again as she seated herself on a stool and waited. Casting a glance around, she released a sigh of relief when she noticed that she was the only customer in the shop.

This was a good thing, because among other things, Belinda did not fit into group settings very well at all. In fact, most people did not know this, but she did not feel comfortable around large groups of people. Instead of behaving in an accepting manner, she generally tried to manipulate them back to her way of thinking.

It was, perhaps for that reason that she had attached herself to Willy Wonka in the first place. She simply preferred one-on-one dialogues to groups.

Her abhorrence to group settings perhaps explained why it was the young woman was trolling the town looking for candy as opposed to being at work. The truth was, just before she had started to write her incessant letters to the chocolatier, she had been fired from her job. The rationale for it was incompetence as well as being unable to work compatibly with others. Because of incessant complaints by her co-workers, the boss had no other alternative but to dismiss her from the job.

As her thoughts shifted to that, an angry scowl shadowed her face until the candy-seller raised his head and spoke, his voice suddenly bringing her crashing back down to earth.

"May I help you?" He asked.

Abruptly, Belinda opened her eyes to see that he had moved the gobstoppers back to their place on the shelf and tucked the inventory list away.

"Do you have any of Wonka's Marshmallow Rounds by any chance?" She asked as she cast the bag with the other candy down on the ground by her feet. Knowing that he could not see it, she inhaled slowly and waited for him to respond.

"I have some left, would you like one?" He asked.

"Actually, I would like to buy all of them that you have," she said, her voice emerging somewhat rude. She cleared her throat in the hopes of concealing that.

"I think I still have some left," he said. "Wait here for a moment and I'll go check." Instead of going to the back room where he knew he had some, he made his way over to the shelf and retrieved the requested candy. As he returned to the counter, he watched as she dug in her purse and pulled out several bills.

Extending them to him, she put the candy in her bag, but kept one on the counter in front of her. Taking this as her chance, she cast a glance around the shop. "Excuse me for asking, but I was just wondering something."

"What's that?" Bill asked.

"I have this friend who told me that she works at a candy store here in town, and I have already asked at several places," she began, the lie rolling off her lips as though practiced. "Does Tamara Jenkins work here?"

"Yes, she works here part-time."

"Where is she now?" Belinda asked. "I mean; if she works here, then wouldn't she be here?"

"Usually she is, but I gave her a few days off to work through some personal matters. She should be back here by Friday, though," Bill offered freely. "Perhaps you might check back then."

"You mean; she's gone until Friday?" Belinda asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, but if you're her friend, then you can leave a message for her with me and I'll be sure that she gets it," Bill responded.

"No, that's alright," she said. Without thinking that he could easily catch her in an overt lie, she continued speaking. "I'll probably see her later since we live together. I guess I'm sort of surprised that she's not here because I haven't seen her since she got home two nights ago. I suppose I figured that she would have come here as opposed to going anywhere else."

He swallowed and looked at Belinda, his expression unreadable. It seemed clear that he was not quite certain as to what to make of her, but yet there was something in her words that concerned him. He watched as she casually bit into the candy. "Are you telling me that Tamara never came home yesterday?" He asked.

"M-hum," Belinda nodded as another bite of chocolate and marshmallow disappeared into her mouth. "It's strange because she never told me she was going back to Somerdale or anything."

"She's probably alright," Bill said, his voice filled with unconvinced undertones.

Belinda shook her head. "I don't think so." Her words emerged in such an overtly syrupy sweet manner that Bill's eyes unconsciously widened.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"No reason really," Belinda said simply, but then looked directly at him and spoke, her voice a soft purr. "I just figured that she'd have left a message. She always leaves a message when she goes away."

That was true, the candy seller thought. Tamara never left to go on unexpected trips without at least leaving a note saying where she was going.

Belinda took a deep breath and waited for her roommate's boss to tell her something reassuring. Right at that moment, her imagination was starting to play strange and unusual games with her. What if Tamara had run off to the factory and was trying to win over Willy Wonka?

Bill took a deep breath. "If I hear anything, I'll call your apartment. I take it you have the same phone number as she does."

Belinda took a deep breath. "Yeah, it's the same," she said as she packed up her candy and turned to leave the shop.


	13. Chapter 12: Connecting the Dots

_I'm posting this new chapter today and want to wish Victory Starr a very happy birthday._

_This chapter does bring Bill more into the story, and so I'm glad that some of you are enjoying his inclusion in the story. I personally love to write him as well as Mr. Wilkenson (who is in my other story). At any rate, I do like some of these other characters. Who knows, maybe one day I'll write a story about Mr. Turkentide, or Mr. Jopeck, just because it's not been done. Of course, I have to be in weird mood to write Turkentide._

_At any rate, thanks to Victory Starr, YaYa, La Vik. and Ajestice for the reviews. Glad you like the story, and YaYa, I am so glad that you got away from that guy. The fact that this issue does affect a great many people, I can only say that I am grateful that I can write it realistically. I wish to emphasize what I said when I posted the first chapter. Stalking is not something to be taken lightly, and I don't want to ever take something this serious as light._

_At any rate, with that said, do enjoy, and once again, Victory Starr, Happy Birthday, close your eyes, make a wish, and count to three…(Zowie I always wanted to say that)_

_Please read and review._

_YaYa, mistake found and corrected, thanks!_

_Edited April 19, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 12: Connecting the Dots**

Back inside the candy store, Bill Peterson was worried.

He could not pin down why he was worried, but something was most definitely not right. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he had been wise to send Tamara home in first place. In the wake of all this, she had, unwillingly, found herself involved in what looked to be a very messy situation indeed.

It was no secret that Tamara was perhaps more fragile than he had initially assumed, and it would seem that her fears about her roommate had been spot-on.

All he had to do to realize this, was to conscientiously recall the conversation he had shared with Belinda only moments ago. Instinctively, Bill could usually tell when someone was lying to him, and through body language alone, he knew that what Belinda was saying had not been the truth at all.

Yet, as he picked apart these bits and pieces, he could not help but believe that she had been accurate about one specific detail.

Tamara Jenkins had disappeared.

In his opinion, this assertion carried about as much truth and accuracy to it as Willy Wonka's candy bars carried good taste.

The candy seller cast a glance over towards the jar of lemon drops that Tamara had come very close to dropping just before she had confided in him that Belinda was stalking Willy Wonka. Shaking his head, he reached out and touched the jar, his fingers brushing across the smooth surface of it.

This was no rumor, he concluded, something had happened to her. Now, it was all compounded in confusion by the fact that Belinda had come into his shop that very day, first claiming that she was a friend of Tamara's and then letting it slip that they were rooming together.

Belinda's general behavior as well as her words, seemed to indicate that she would resort to lies and untruths if it meant that she would be able to pin down Tamara's precise whereabouts.

She had two goals, he thought, to find Tamara and stockpile as many Marshmallow Rounds as she possibly could. With those thoughts still flying about in his mind, Bill started to think that maybe Belinda was more interested in knowing where Tamara was not, as opposed to where she was, thus affirming that perhaps Tamara had been accurate regarding the stalking issue.

Bill's thoughts abruptly shifted as he realized how vastly different these two individuals were, and yet they shared an interest in Wonka's Marshmallow Rounds.

Taking a deep breath, he suddenly remembered how Tamara had unintentionally left her purse on the counter the last time she left the shop. He had assumed that she would return to pick it up, but the workday ended without so much as a sign of her. This alone, made him believe that Belinda's words about Tamara disappearing could have been the truth.

Adhering to his better judgment, he did not mention this to Belinda at all. Perhaps, it was better that he heed his intuition with regard to both ladies. This seemed a better option than to turn over Tamara's possessions to a roommate who resorted to lies as a means of manipulating him or trying to dig for information.

He turned away from the counter. It was now closing time and he would be leaving the shop to return home within the hour. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a key before walking over to the door and locking up the shop. Next, he pulled down the shades and turned off the lights before retreating to the back rooms. There, he would sit down and begin figuring his profits from that day's sales.

Of course, this time, mathematics would have to wait. For now, he wanted to check the contents of Tamara's purse for some clues as to what may have happened to her.

As a general rule, he would never have done this, but something inside told him that perhaps it was a good idea to make an exception. Walking over to the locker, he opened it and pulled out the small purse. Next, he went over to the desk and sat down in front of it.

Opening the small bag, he began to carefully remove the objects from inside. The first being her wallet. Opening it he discovered a credit card, an identification card as well as a special medical card which listed Tamara's food allergies. There, printed on the card were several items listed. "Bell peppers, olives, and pork," he muttered under his breath as he closed the wallet.

Seconds later, he pulled out a small vial that had her name and address printed across the label. It looked to be a special allergy medicine as well as two small syringes. He swallowed at the thought of her having to inject this medicine if she happened to have been exposed to the objects listed on the medical card.

He returned the objects to her purse, but soon noticed a set of keys that were crammed inside and next to what looked to be a half-eaten Marshmallow Round. It looked to have been the same candy that Tamara had started to eat when they had spoken. This had eventually been cast aside. Next to the candy, however, Bill's eyes took in the corner of a plain white colored envelope.

Extracting it from amidst the contents of the purse, he pulled it out and noticed it was unsealed. Turning it over, he read the name, 'Mr. Wonka' scrawled across it in legible, but shaky script. He knew Tamara's handwriting, and while this was recognizable as hers, he could sense the overwhelming anxiety from the manner in which the message was written. Without thinking, he pulled out the letter and began to read.

The contents of the letter were the same as what Tamara had confided in him, in fact, the words 'I know how you must be feeling', seemed to spring out and slap him hard across the face.

Was that her great secret? Did she really know what it felt like to have someone stalking her? Or was this just her way of reaching out to the reclusive chocolatier in a compassionate way?

Bill took a deep breath as he finished the letter and read the closing words 'sincerely yours'. There was no indication of love or attraction, there was just a sincere and heartfelt group of words. Sadly, Willy Wonka had never gotten to even see these words at all.

The candy seller was now at a loss as to what to do. He had seen Tamara in the state she was in just before having left the shop. Now, he had seen Belinda's behavior first hand, and this left him increasingly disquieted. The young woman who worked in his shop was gone and now he felt the necessity in finding her as soon as possible.

Keeping the letter outside of the purse, he closed it before returning it to the locker. If she did go home, as he had advised, then she would not have been able to get inside without her keys. As for staying at a bed and breakfast, she would have had to have given them some form of identification before obtaining a room.

Something was simply not right.

After several minutes had passed, he took a deep breath, and releasing it, he went over to the phone and picked it up. Perhaps, given this particular situation, he would have to call the factory. At the very least, he could let someone know that Tamara's fears and concerns held a trace of validity.

He dialed the number and waited for his call to be picked up. "Please, let someone be there," he muttered under his breath.

After about a minute and several rings later, the phone was abruptly picked up and a young sounding male voice chimed across the airwaves. "Mr. Wonka's office, this is Charlie."

"Hello Charlie, this is Bill Peterson calling," he began.

"Bill Peterson?" The boy mused and it was clear that the teenager was trying to place a name to a face.

"I'm the owner of the candy shop in the center of town," he began.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I have a lot on my mind, and well; I didn't expect anyone to call since it's after business hours," Charlie explained. "How is everything?"

"It's just fine, but there's something really important that I need to discuss with Mr. Wonka," he began. "Is he there?"

"No sir, I haven't seen him for much of the day actually."

"Can you go find him?" Bill asked. "I really need to speak with him."

"Is it about the last shipments?" Charlie asked, and Bill could soon hear the sounds of papers being shuffled about. "It says here that he sent a shipment to you two days ago. Did you get it?"

"Yes, I got it, but no I'm not calling about business or chocolate," Bill said. "I don't know if you know this, but Willy and I are friends, we went to school together and have known each other for a number of years. What I need to talk to him about is regarding a young woman who works for me here at the shop. The thing is, it appears as though she has gone missing."

"Missing?" Charlie asked. "You mean just like that, she's gone?"

"Yes, that's what I mean, she's missing," he said patiently. "I don't know if I should go into detail with you about her as I don't know if it will help. The point is, I need to talk to Willy, if but only to put my mind at ease about what has been happening."

"You mean about him being stalked?" Charlie asked.

"You know about that?" Bill asked.

"I saw some of the stuff that the psychotic woman sent. I knew what it was because the police came and talked to us at school about the dangers of it," Charlie said. "Anyway, Willy told me that he had taken care of it."

"Taken care of it?" Bill asked.

"Yeah, he said that he brought her to the factory and wanted to talk to her about why she was doing it. I don't know any details except what the workers have been telling me about her."

"Well, if he did bring a girl to the factory, then I can tell you right now that it wasn't the one who was stalking him," Bill said. "The stalker's name is Belinda and she was here in the shop less than ten minutes ago." When Charlie did not respond to his words, Bill eventually spoke, his next question filling the youth's ear. "Charlie, what do you know about the girl who is there?"

"Not very much," he said. "Last night at dinner, Willy kept reassuring me that everything was going to get back to normal around here. If you want to know the truth, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me, though."

"Do you know the girl's name?" Bill asked.

"No," Charlie said.

"Could her name be Tamara Jenkins?"

"I don't know, maybe," Charlie said. "Listen, I-I don't want to do something that could get him into trouble, Bill, he's really been like a father to me. I just figured that he always knew what he was doing and I should probably not second guess him."

"Yet, there's something bothering you about this whole thing, right?" Bill asked.

"Yeah."

"You know, I think it's alright for you to feel a bit on edge right now," he said. "I know that although I am not directly involved, I do feel the very same anxiety as you. You're my friends, and it's completely normal. But, I have to say that if what you are saying about Willy bringing a girl to the factory is true, then I have the sneaking suspicion that he has made a dreadful mistake," Bill said.

"What sort of mistake?" Charlie asked.

"If Belinda is still out and about, then you might have a stranger inside the factory," Bill said. "However, if Tamara is the person who is there, then it would clear up the mystery as to where she has been since early yesterday afternoon. It does not dismiss the fact that Willy may have made a crucial mistake, though."

"I can try and find out, I just have to go by the room and see if I can talk to him," Charlie said.

"That would be good if you could," Bill said. "Perhaps it would be even better if I could talk to him because if Belinda is really stalking him…"

"…She is," Charlie interrupted, his voice emerging as an almost angry shout. After several moments, his anger waned and he began to speak in a normal tone of voice. "I saw one of the packages she left here, and it was full of some really scary stuff. I even tried to get Willy to go to the police, but he wouldn't. He wanted to handle the situation in his own way."

"His own way could have been a form of self-justice," Bill muttered, but after several moments he inhaled slowly and released it calmly. "Listen, Charlie, I want to help Willy out of this situation if I can, but I think that this means that we will have to pin down the precise whereabouts of Tamara Jenkins."

"I'll try and find out," Charlie said. "But, I don't want him to get into trouble."

"Neither do I, but we do have to find out what specifically is happening. Willy's the only person who can tell us," Bill said firmly.

Before Charlie could so much as offer a response, Bill could suddenly hear the sounds of a door opening and closing on the other end of the line.

He was not sure if the person who had arrived was Willy, but something told him that he was about to find out.


	14. Chapter 13: A Confectioner's Conscience

_Hello everyone and here's the newest chapter to this story. It continues where the last chapter had left off. I hope that you enjoy it. Sorry I left you hanging Victory Starr, and hope that this will rectify that feeling of hanging. I hope you enjoy._

_YaYa, I found the typo after careful scrutiny and fixed it. Thanks for catching it. That was one easy typo to overlook, but it's changed._

_La Vik. I saw your comments and Pmed the response to you, but I wanted to let everyone reading know this because it is a good question. I know that based on what I was able to see, Charlie was 12 or so when the Golden Ticket contest happened, and here he's about 16, so he's going through the typical teenage angst, but is also more mature than the average teen because I think his experiences sort of play off on it (having lost his father at a young age and having to help support his family, etc.). At any rate, this story takes place between 3 and 4 years after the Golden Tickets. I may not have played the time card very well, but Charlie is 16._

_Other than that, there is not very much to say. I am bopping between this and 'In Another's Eyes', so if there are days that pass between updates, that's why because I am once more inspired to work on that one._

_Enjoy and please review. Those tend to inspire me to be quick about these updates._

_Edited April 19, 2008._

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**Chapter 13: A Confectioner's Conscience**

As Bill listened to the sounds that were coming through the line, he began to ponder what was now happening at the factory and if the person who had entered the office had been Willy.

Before he could inquire, the sound of the teenager's voice once again filled his ear. "Bill?" A pause. "Willy just came in, I'm going to put him on."

"Thank you, Charlie," he said as he heard the sounds of the phone switching hands.

When he heard Willy saying 'hello' on the other end of the line, he cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Willy? It's Bill Peterson."

"Hello Bill," Willy's voice emerged and his immediate suspicion was that his long time friend was exhausted. After several moments of silence passed, the voice suddenly changed from a dull hum to an almost forced cheerfulness. "Of what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I don't know, maybe you can tell me," Bill said firmly, all the while trying to maintain a serious tone with his friend. It somehow had proven quite difficult when Willy was talking in such a strange manner.

"Tell you what?" Willy asked, thus bringing him back to the present moment.

"I'm trying to find someone, and Charlie and I figured that you held the key to unlock the mystery of the past few days," Bill said. When Willy did not respond, he took a deep breath and spoke, this time his voice resigned. "How are you?"

These three words seemed to puncture the chocolatier's overconfident responses. Within seconds, his dejected words soon emerged. "Not so great."

Between the cadence of Willy's voice and the silence that ensued, Bill could distinctly make out the sounds of the door closing in the distance. This left him to conclude that Charlie had excused himself from the room so as to give them some privacy.

After several moments had passed, he took a deep breath, but released it as he began to drum his fingers across the desk. "I figured as much," emerged between the tapping sounds.

"You know me well," Willy said.

"Perhaps, but I also know that the birds have been twittering about and one even told me that there is a young woman who has become quite obsessed with you. It would seem that you have become quite the 'ladies man', if you will."

"Please don't go and tell me that the media has somehow managed to find out about this fiasco," Willy moaned. "I have been trying to do what I can to keep it under wraps."

"Understandably so, but this time I didn't find out this information from the media. Instead, I found it out through someone who seems to care a great deal about your well being," Bill said honestly.

"My well being?" Willy asked, his words dully repeating the same ones that the candy seller had spoken.

"Of course," Bill said. "You have a number of fans that you never even realized you had. At any rate, there is someone who told me about what has been happening with you. Based entirely on what Charlie said before you came in, I can fully understand you freaking out about it. Of course, from what I have been able to ascertain, you have opted to trying to take the law into your own hands."

"I tried, yes, but…" His voice trailed.

"…You grabbed the wrong one, right?" Bill finished for him.

"Charlie told you?" Willy asked.

"He told me a little bit, but the rest I figured out on my own," Bill said. "Willy, we've been friends for a really long time, and you know that I have never lied to you about anything. Right at this moment, I can only hope that you will bestow that very same courtesy on me."

When the chocolatier said nothing, the candy seller continued speaking. "I called your office to let you know what I heard about the situation. Then when Charlie told me that you had brought a girl there, I started to wonder if it was the same girl as the one who works for me here at the shop. The reason I'm asking is because according to her roommate, she disappeared yesterday after I sent her home." As he spoke, he could hear the sounds of Willy's breathing becoming more ragged.

When the confectioner said nothing in response to this, Bill eventually spoke, his single word, a final attempt at getting his friend's attention. "Willy?"

"Yes?"

"Perhaps now is the time for you to trust me enough to tell me what specifically is going on. After all, I'm starting to think that you mistook the girl who works for me to be Belinda."

"How could you know?" The chocolatier asked weakly.

"Because Belinda came by the shop looking for Marshmallow Round candies earlier today. Instead, of taking her candy and leaving, she tried to 'innocently' ask me about the precise whereabouts of her roommate. The girl who works here seemed to believe that something horrible was happening to you and was concerned. In fact, I found a letter that she had written to you that confirmed that. I'm guessing that she would have delivered it had she not been so worried that she left the shop without it."

"She was worried?" Willy whispered.

"Yes," Bill affirmed as he unfolded the letter and began to read it aloud.

_Dear Mr. Wonka,_

_Perhaps you do not wish to hear from me, but there is something very important I must tell you. My name is Tamara Jenkins, and I'm not writing to alarm or frighten you. I'm writing because I am worried about you and hope that you are well._

_I live with a woman named Belinda and I found out only moments ago that she has been sending you letters and gifts. When I discovered the extent of what she was doing, I tried to talk her out of it, but she would not listen. Instead, she began to accuse me of being jealous or trying to rain on her parade, if you will._

_The truth is, her actions are frightening to me, and yet, I feel helpless in trying to contend with them. Living under the same roof with someone who does this sort of thing reminds me of my own life and why I live here in town instead of back home with my family._

_Please, Sir, do be careful. I know that I am but a face in the crowd, but no one deserves to be treated this way, and for what it's worth, I know just how you must be feeling._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Tamara Jenkins_

When Willy said nothing for several moments, Bill took a deep breath and spoke, his question breaking into the chocolatier's disquieting thoughts. "The girl that you have there is Tamara Jenkins, correct?"

When Willy did not respond, Bill knew that his assertion had hit the virtual nail on the head. He was now fully aware of what had happened, Willy had gotten scared and mistook Tamara for Belinda.

Eventually, the candy seller inhaled sharply and spoke, his voice now etched in impatience. "Willy, is Tamara the girl you have at the factory?"

"Yes," he whispered. "But right now she's very sick and has spent much of the day sleeping."

"Why is she sick?" Bill asked.

"I didn't do anything, I thought she was Belinda, and in the letters, Belinda said that she loved turkey and peppers," he confessed. "I didn't believe her when she said that she was allergic to them, and I watched her eat some and didn't stop her. Then she had this terrible reaction to them this morning when she woke up."

"There's a card in her purse that says that she is highly allergic to pork products, olives, and peppers. I have her allergy medicine here. I should probably bring it by and drop it off in your mailbox once I leave here. I'd bring her purse as well, but with all this insanity, I don't trust leaving it there."

"We can probably come by and pick that up when she's healthy again," Willy said softly. "Right now, everything is such a mess."

"You can say that again," Bill said as he took a deep breath. "Why did you do this, Willy?"

"I don't know," He said brokenly. "I guess I wanted the letters to stop. I wanted to be able to leave the factory whenever I felt like it. During the last two weeks, whenever I would try, I somehow felt ill at ease and unsafe. Bill, I know I made a mistake, but right now, I have to rectify the things I've done, and I have no idea how."

"You'll find a way, you always do," Bill said confidently.

"You seem to have more confidence in me than I have in myself," he mused.

"I just know you, and I know that you wouldn't hurt another person intentionally, not even when they have hurt you as Belinda obviously did. Just don't be so hard on yourself, if Tamara is anything like the person I know, then I can tell you that her support and understanding will not cease."

"What else can I do?" He asked.

"Just be yourself, be honest, and don't do anything else to hurt her. It would seem to me that she has to be a pretty compassionate lady to have written you that letter. To feel empathy for a man whom she does not even know could somehow make it quite possible for her to find the strength to forgive."

"I just hope that I am not beyond her forgiveness," Willy whispered.

"I think it would take a great deal for someone like Tamara to not forgive," Bill said gently. "Trust me on that, Willy, she is truly a remarkable young woman."

"I hope you're right, Bill, I'll talk to you later," Willy's last words filled his ear before he heard the light click of the receiver being replaced at the other end.

Bill took a deep breath, his eyes momentarily closing as he got to his feet. He returned the phone to the cradle before he went over to the locker and retrieved the medication for Tamara. He closed the locker and then started to make his way towards the back door of the shop. The tally of the day's totals, he retrieved with the intentions of taking care of when he got home. As he walked, he contemplated how his oldest friend now needed his help.

Tomorrow was going to be a new day, so perhaps that would give all of them the chance to overcome whatever it was that day had reaped.


	15. Chapter 14: At the Beginning

_Hello and welcome to the next chapter. Thanks to my reviewers who are reading this, specifically to Ya Ya and Victory Starr for their continued to support. Thanks also to Chittychat for stopping in, although reading only one chapter does not always give adequate means in which to follow a story. Not knowing if this reviewer intends to read further, I cannot say, but at any rate, thanks for at least commenting._

_As far as the medical stuff contained here, I'm no doctor, nor do I play one on television. I do know that generally the medications that are injected have to be refrigerated, but in this particular situation, it's rather difficult for me to use that commodity since Tamara's medication was kept in her purse. I simply ask that those of you with more medical experience than me please take it into consideration that this was needed for this particular chapter. To me, this is just an attempt at making the story flow, and while I hate to have inconsistent issues present, I really can't avoid it._

_At any rate, please let me know how this is shaping up. I really appreciate the reviews._

_Edited April 19, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 14: At the Beginning**

After having hung up the phone and ending his conversation with Bill, Willy sat for several minutes in his chair and stared down at his desk. Charlie had left the room and he was now alone with his thoughts and contemplations. Somehow he wished that his apprentice was still present, because contrary to his sixteen years, Charlie somehow held a wisdom that went far beyond his young age.

As a soft sigh emerged from between his lips, he shook his head with absolute hopelessness. What am I going to do now? He asked himself. How would I be able to rectify with Tamara what I had done to her?

The words Bill had read from her letter were still ringing in his ears long after their conversation had ended. Even if she were to forgive him, the chances of him forgiving himself seemed remote at best.

He got to his feet and walked slowly out of the room, his intention to go to the kitchen and make some bullion for his guest. He knew that she probably could not keep down anything solid, but the nutrients in the soup would no doubt help her. He would also have to go to his mailbox and retrieve the medication that Bill had intended on leaving there.

As he walked down the hall, his eyes were staring straight ahead. Just before he was about to pass the room that Tamara was staying in, he swallowed the lump that seemed to lodge itself in his throat.

Reaching the large kitchen, he made a beeline straight for the cupboards, which held countless spices and ingredients. Digging around, he managed to find two packages, which contained the small bullion cubes in the flavors of beef and chicken. Since she was not present to decide, he opted to making the chicken flavored for her. He measured out a half liter of water, poured it into the pan, and set it to boil on the burner.

After several minutes, the water started to boil and he cut the heat. Adding the small square-shaped cube to the water, he watched as it slowly dissolved in the liquid.

Using a spoon, he began to stir until all that was left was a yellowish colored liquid. Leaning over, he inhaled the soothing scent of the chicken flavored broth. Hopefully this would help her to feel better, he thought as he reached for a cylindrical-shaped thermos container and filled it with the hot soup.

Next, he grabbed a package of saltine crackers and finally reached for a small soup bowl and spoon. With all of these items, he left the kitchen and made his way back down the hall towards her room.

As he reached it, he opened the door and came inside. Leaving the door open so that the gentle light from the corridor could waft into the room, he crossed the large open space. The bowl and spoon, as well as the crackers and thermos, he placed on the table as his gaze once more drifted back towards the window.

Dusk had fallen on the town and from the stillness of the quiet room, he could tell that Tamara was still asleep, the illness having obviously taken a great deal of strength out of her. Aside from all that, the room was dark and the only sounds to be heard were the soft sighs that seemed to emerge from the young woman as she slept.

He approached the bed, leaned over, and rested his wrist against her forehead. The fever was still present, but it seemed to have lowered at least somewhat. Her body seemed to be bathed in perspiration and this somehow give him the incentive to go to Mrs. Bucket, and inquire about a proper change of clothes for her.

Instead of remaining by her side, he slowly straightened out before slipping quietly out of the room. In record time, he made his way down the hall in the direction of the door that would lead outside and over to the mailbox that was situated near the front gate. How he hated checking the mail, especially with all the letters and gifts he had received from Belinda. This left him on edge, and he felt far more exposed than he would have been had he gone for a walk in town.

Pulling the keys from his pocket, he took a deep breath, separated them, and opened the mailbox. Inside the small compartment was a small glass container and the two syringes.

Thank you, Bill, he thought for a fleeting moment as he pocketed the objects before closing the mailbox. He then slipped quietly back inside the safe confines of his factory.

Seconds later, he found himself making his way back to Tamara's room.

Reaching the door once again, he opened it and entered. The door, he closed behind him as he slowly made his way back over to the bed, and fumbling around, he managed to turn on the light.

Sitting down next to her, he touched the pocket where the medication rested. He removed the small glass container and noticed that there were no instructions, but instead just a label with her name and address printed across it. Of course, directly under her address, he could see that the words, 'to be injected', were printed in bold-faced type.

At that moment, his face took on a strange greenish hue. That was what the syringes were for, he thought with foreboding. He had always hated shots. Even when he had been a child, he would look away whenever they were administered.

Now, he would have to give Tamara one as she was still suffering from the reaction from the food. The hives had not dissipated, not even after he had given her the red cocoa bean extract.

Sighing, Willy knew that her body seemed to crave sleep and perhaps it would be that way until she was given the proper medication that would remedy her ailments once and for all.

He took a deep breath, and with resolve, he placed one of the syringes on the bedside table, the second, he returned to his pocket.

Having had a father who was a dentist had somehow come in handy, as he had seen his father administer shots throughout his youth and was rather a quick learner. He carefully opened the plastic wrapping of the syringe, and gently laid the small packet with the alcohol-soaked pad to one side. As he regarded the size of the needle, relief washed over him when he discovered that it was quite small and had the diameter that resembled a single strand of hair.

Managing to fill the syringe with the medicine, he stared at the clear fluid that swam around in the hollow plastic tube. He had managed to measure it accurately as well as get the air bubbles out of it before looking for Tamara's arm.

Finding it, he pulled back the blanket and ripping into the packet, he removed the moist pad. Gently, he brushed it across her upper arm before taking a deep breath. With his eyes half-closed, he plunged the needle into her arm and pressed the top, thus releasing the medication.

Pulling it out seconds later, he looked down at her upper arm where it had gone in. There was no blood, and the skin looked smooth and unbroken. Relief washed over him as he realized that it was not as bad as he had initially surmised. Perhaps now she would start to feel better.

Wordlessly, he returned the syringe to the plastic package. The rest of the medication he cleared away before releasing a pent up breath and standing up. Returning outside, he deposited the used items in the garbage before coming back and closing the door behind him. It was now time for her to have something to eat, even if it was something as insignificant as crackers and broth.

Standing over her, he reached down and brushed his hand gently across one side of her face. "Tamara?" He whispered her name, the soft utterance that emerged from him causing her to wearily shift on the bed and slowly open her eyes.

"Who's there?" She moaned softly as she began to rub the exhaustion out of her face.

"It's only me," he said, but leaned over somewhat so that she could make eye contact with him. "I brought you some soup. I thought that might help you feel a bit better."

Instead of acknowledging these words, she turned and tried to focus on the clock that was next to the bed. When she could not, she wearily turned back around and faced him. "What time is it?" She asked.

"Close to eight," he said.

"In the morning?" She whispered as she rubbed her face, but her gaze seemed to regard him with the same wariness as had happened in the Beige Room. "Did I sleep that long?"

"No, you only slept about four or five hours. It's now eight in the evening, and I figured that you might be able to handle some soup now. Do you feel up to it?"

"If it doesn't have peppers in it, sure," she whispered.

"It doesn't and I will stake my life on that," he said smiling sadly. "But it may or may not make you feel better to know that I actually prepared it myself."

Tamara started to sit up in the bed, her head literally spinning out of control. She fell back against the pillows and regarded him through weary eyes. "What kind?"

"It's not really soup, it's just some chicken broth," he said. "I figured that you were not ready to eat solid food yet."

She nodded in concurrence. "My stomach still feels really queasy."

"I figured as much. Do you need to…?" His voice trailed off but he cast a wary glance in the direction of the bathroom.

Understanding this, she shook her head. "No, I think I'm OK."

"I suppose it is taking some time for you to get the contaminated food out of your system," he said.

"The doctor said without my medicine it could take close to threes day, if not a week," she whispered as she started to shove the blankets aside and try to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

As she began to crawl her way out of bed, Willy spoke, his voice etched in concern. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" He asked. "You're still very sick."

"I never eat in bed, the last time I tried, I ended up getting food everywhere," she whispered as she started to grope about for his hand. When she could not find it, she continued speaking, this time, her voice carrying a trace of impatience. "Will you at least help me to the table, please?"

Willy nodded as he surrendered his hand and felt her clammy one wrapping around his. "Of course." He gently pulled her to her feet, but once she was standing, he had to wind his free arm around her shoulder to keep her from sinking to the floor. As he took a step, he could feel her hand tightening its hold on his, her fingernails digging into his. He cringed, but said nothing, instead, he took another step.

"I feel so dizzy," she confessed as she lowered her head and felt her eyes wearily closing. Willy nodded as a shower of guilt once more washed over him. As her knees became even more wobbly, her next words emerged as a soft plea. "Mr. Wonka, please don't let me fall over."

"I won't," he said as they had reached the table. He released her hand so as to pull out a chair. He then helped her to sit down.

Once she was comfortable, he returned to the bed, grabbed one of the blankets, and shook it out somewhat. He then went back over to where she sat and wrapped it carefully around her. "Is that better?"

"Yes," she whispered, "thank you."

Nodding, he smiled as he reached for the thermos and started to open it. Managing this, he carefully poured some of the contents into the bowl and watched as she reached for the spoon.

"Do you mind if I stay?" He asked as she began to eat.

"Why do you ask?" She asked as she reached for the package of crackers and started to fish out the one on top.

"I don't know. I suppose some people don't like others around when they are eating," he said honestly.

"I don't mind," she laid the spoon down so that she could rub her hands together.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

"Aside from feeling feverish, my feet are freezing," she confessed. "I usually walk around with thick socks on my feet because they tend to get really cold fast. Some nights I even sleep with them on."

"You sleep with socks on your feet?" He asked.

"It's better than having cold feet," she said.

He nodded. "Then I'll go and get you some socks. Is there anything else you would like me to bring? Perhaps I can get you a fresh set of pajamas?"

She nodded. "Thanks."

"Would you stay here until I get back?" He asked softly, motioning towards the table. "The thing is, I don't want you to fall over trying to get back to bed."

"Why do you care?" She raised her head and asked, her words somehow abrupt.

"I just do," he responded in the exact same abrupt tone as she had used. Lowering his head somewhat, his next words emerged. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Tamara nodded and with her attention now on the soup, she did not notice that Willy had slowly left the room.


	16. Chapter 15: The Longest Night

_Here we are again with chapter 15. I want to give a shout out to my reviewers with my thanks for the acknowledgement. I did not want the story to progress too terribly quickly, but I also had rather hoped that it would not drag. It's good to know that I have been able to keep it at a pace that you all can enjoy._

_So thanks go out to Ya Ya, Victory Starr and Ajestice for the nice reviews and for understanding the importance of not just telling a good story, but also keeping the characters as human. I think that is one of my favorite descriptors about Willy, he is human, with all the flaws and imperfections of being human. After having a history of writing fan fiction about angels, aliens, or strange and magical creatures, it is nice to come back to my fascination with this character and make him magical, but also keeping him grounded in what he is, a man._

_I hope that makes sense to you, but I also want to emphasize that this is so important for me to keep the stories I write realistic, as though they could work in the universe they are in, and I guess that also means keeping the OC's grounded in a sort of feeling that if I were in this situation, how would I react? Would I forgive because he's Willy Wonka, or would I be hesitant around him? It just seems a bit too over the top to assume that everything is going to be easy for him just because he's Willy Wonka. Of course, I also like the willingness of the other characters to help him through the situation, that adds appeal. So thanks for catching that bit and letting me know that it's going OK. In this chapter Tamara does start to warm up a tiny bit, but I hope it's not too much. I don't want to turn you off to reading this, not after you have been so kind._

_As always, enjoy, but please review._

_Edited April 21, 2008._

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**Chapter 15. The Longest Night**

As soon as he stepped out into the hallway, Willy's emotions felt as though they were being run through the wringer. While he wished that Tamara would try to understand his rationale, he could clearly understand why she was afraid and could not. Of course, deeply imbedded in him was the acceptance that he deserved every last cold word or brutal slam that she tossed into his face.

The most challenging part was the overwhelming guilt he carried.

He ran his hand across his face and lowered his head slightly as he remembered the coolness that was laced in the young woman's green eyes. She did not even have to utter a sound for him to know the accusations that dwelled in her heart. She may have been too afraid to speak these words of anger and hostility, yet, he could see them each and every time he looked into her eyes. It was in those eyes where she displayed a strength of character that he did not see the evening they sat and ate candy on the bench. For whatever reason, he could somehow sense that this was all an act and that her façade could very well dissipate like snow during the first warm day of the year.

Willy made his way in the direction of the suite belonging to the Bucket family, his thoughts were still swimming about in his mind. The question that was raking havoc on him was whether or not she would someday forgive him. Or was the internalized hope of his gaining her pardon just a crop of wishful thinking?

He had done something that he knew was monumentally wrong. Each time she made note of it, he was simply reminded of how her impression of him hung on that one action. Willy felt as though the aching pain in his heart was growing by leaps and bounds.

It was no secret, he had no idea what was going to happen next, and he was too ashamed to tell his friends the extent of what he had done. If the truth got out that he abducted a young woman from off the street, it might cost him the respect and friendship of the older members of this remarkable family. To Willy Wonka, the world was quite conditional and he was not exactly sure as to what was going to happen because of said conditions.

He took a deep breath as he reached the door to their suite. He remained hopeful that he would be able to get some fresh clothing and warm socks for Tamara. It seemed a small commodity, and to him it felt strange that the young woman was not asking for money or some greater form of compensation for her troubles. Instead, she kept her requests surprisingly simple.

As his thoughts continued to wreck havoc on his conscience, he tapped lightly on the door and waited for one of the members of Charlie's family to respond. As soon as they did, he found himself looking into the kind blue eyes of Clara Bucket.

She was dressed in a simple blue house dress and that alone seemed indicative of the uncomplicated lifestyle of this family. Willy recalled how they had lived in the factory for over three years and still she never changed. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail just as it had been the day they had first met. When she motioned for him to enter, he did and the door was closed behind him.

Taking a glance around the large sitting room, Willy smiled. The furniture from their old house was stationed throughout the room, giving it a mix of old and modern. Somehow that gave off a comforting essence to the place, and if anything, that made Willy relax.

Of course, it was her voice that brought him back to the present.

"Willy, I had no idea that you were planning to join us for dinner," she said, the warm smile never leaving her face. "Let me set a place for you."

"No, that's not necessary, I wasn't planning to stay, I just needed to ask a favor," he began, his mind still on the request of warm socks that he still had to retrieve for Tamara.

"Well, Charlie's not here, he's in the main library doing some research for a paper," she said. "After he left your office, he stopped by the kitchen, grabbed several cookies, and said that that was where he was going. If you want me to, I can summon him back here," she offered as she slowly made her way over to the intercom system that was on the wall. Just before she had suppressed the button with her son's name on it, Willy's voice interrupted her.

"N-no Clara, it's not necessary at all," he said. "I was wondering if he mentioned to you about what happened two days ago."

"No, he doesn't usually mention the business stuff with me. I think out of respect for you, he would prefer to not share anything that might betray your trust," she said as a loud beeping sound emerged, which made the chocolatier come very close to jumping.

At the last minute, he recovered, since it resonated from the kitchen and appeared to be the timer that was on the oven. "I'm sorry, but that's dinner, and if I don't get the casserole out of the oven, we're going to have to settle on Oompa Loompa made pizza again. Although Charlie and my dad don't mind that very much, it is not something that Georgina should be having too frequently, we have to watch her cholesterol."

Willy nodded, but started to follow her in the direction of the kitchen. "Clara, I need your help with something," he began once they were in the room. He watched as she reached for two hand mittens and pulled them on before stooping down and retrieving the casserole from the oven. Once she had placed it on the stove, she straightened out and removed the mittens and tossed them on the counter.

As the soothing scents of noodles and cheese filled his nose, Willy almost wished that he could stop and have dinner with them. Clara's food reminded him of those Sunday trips to his grandparents when he was a boy. Stifling the memory, his thoughts returned to Tamara who was alone in her room with soup and crackers. He knew that there was no way that he would be able to contend with having dinner and then rushing to the Rainbow Light Room to deliver the items she had requested.

"You need my help?" She asked, a smile breaking though the serious expression she generally had on her face. "Are you well, Willy?" She asked. "Or would you like to sit down?"

Willy grimaced. Generally, it was very rare for him to ask anyone for a favor besides Charlie. As soon as the blonde-headed lady had turned around and faced him, he knew that beyond any doubt, he could seek out her assistance. She had always been rather like an older sister to him since they had come to the factory, and he had grown quite fond of her.

"No, I'm fine," he said, trying to shift his expression so that he was conveying a sort of forced cheerfulness.

"You seem a bit upset," she offered as she rested her hand gently on his shoulder and exerted a gentle squeeze to it. Instead of elaborating on this, she released her hold, went over to the small table, and sat down. "I have a few minutes, why don't we talk?"

"I can't, I'm kind of in a hurry," he said. "Did Charlie tell you that there is a young lady staying here at the factory?"

"He mentioned it, but he didn't elaborate and I thought it best not to press him. I will say that he's been quite worried about you. Actually, we all have been rather concerned," she said. "You know, the only thing that he did tell us was that you were contending with a stalker. That's not a nice thing for anyone to have to deal with."

"No, I suppose it's not," he said honestly. "Clara, did Charlie tell you how it was that the young lady came to find herself here?"

"He said that you were trying to do what you could to get the woman to stop harassing you," she said.

Willy nodded, but instead of elaborating, he took a deep breath. "She's the wrong lady, Clara, and now because of me, she's very sick. Presently, I need to get her a change of clothes and some warm socks. I mean; it's the least I can do."

"Socks?" Clara asked.

"Yes, she said that she has really cold feet," he said with a slight smile.

She nodded. "Alright, then you just wait here, I'll go get you the things that she'll be needing."

"Thank you," he said as she quickly left the room.

With the efficiency that only a mother could have, Clara returned to the kitchen with a small stack of folded items. "I have a fresh set of pajamas and several pair of socks here. I will bring a dress to her room in a couple of days. It will perhaps not do her very much good right now, especially given the fact that she's been sick."

Willy nodded as he accepted the items that she offered. "I really appreciate your help. I just wish that I could tell you more about what has been happening here."

Clara smiled. "I think I understand, Willy, but you do know that if you need us for anything, you should ask. We're here for you, you know."

Nodding, he started to walk through the room until he had reached the door. If only I could find the courage to give you more specific details, he thought despondently. With that, he stepped back out into the hall and made his way in the direction of Tamara's room.

Once he had arrived, he went into the room and walked over to the sofa. He then placed everything except a pair of the socks on it. These, he placed inside his waistcoat pocket before approaching where she was seated.

The soup was now gone, and she had pushed the bowl far enough away so that she could rest her head in her arms. It was clear that while she had eaten all of the soup he had provided, she was still too weak and tired to move on her own. Wordlessly, he nudged her slightly and waited for her to raise her head.

"I must have dozed off," she mumbled as she closed her eyes briefly.

"Do you want another bowl of the broth?" He asked gently.

"No, please just help me, I feel so dizzy," she whispered. "Oh God, if only I had my medicine, then this nightmare could stop."

"I managed to get your medicine while you were asleep, and now it will just be a matter of time before you feel better," he said.

Instead of responding or even reaching for his hand, Tamara simply nodded. She allowed her eyes to close and with her hands still gripping the blanket that covered her, she started to sway until her body nearly toppled onto the floor.

Seeing this, Willy positioned his body in so that instead of her falling onto the ground, the weight of her body landed securely in his arms. Smiling slightly, he picked her up and carried her back over to the bed. "You're as light as a feather," he said affectionately as he laid her on the bed amidst the pillows.

Once she was lying there and before covering her with the blanket, he removed the socks from his pocket and carefully put them on her feet.

"Just like you promised," she muttered softly as she closed her eyes.

Willy said nothing, instead, he finished the task of putting the socks on her feet and pulling the covers over her. As soon as he had finished, he started to back up, but abruptly felt her hand reaching out and touching his.

"Please don't go," she whispered. "I don't know why, but I kind of like having you here."

Was this delusional state some kind of side-effect of the medicine? He asked himself. Instead of contemplating this further, he covered her hand with his and spoke. "I'm here, Tamara, and I will not leave your side if you wish for me to stay."

"Just don't hate me for causing you so much trouble," she whispered as she began to shake her head. "I didn't mean to."

"No, your being here is no trouble at all. In fact; it's me who should be apologizing to you." He released her hand and carefully tucked it under the covers. "Now, just lay back and try to go to sleep. If you need me, I'll be nearby."

She nodded and did as he suggested. After several minutes, her body completely relaxed against the softness of the pillows.

Leaning over, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Tamara," he whispered as he stared entranced at her while she slept.

What is happening to me? He asked himself. Of course it is only natural for me to feel this sort of empathy for her, he thought. Yet, now there's something else going on, something that I have absolutely no control over.

His memories shifted as he recalled the moment when he had sat next to her next on the bench. She had spoken to him about things like camping as though he was a normal person. While he liked that feeling, he knew internally that he was anything but 'normal'. Now that she actually knew his identity, the awareness of his own unconventional life was unavoidable. Now, his heart seemed to overflow with indescribable emptiness.

"Somehow you have changed me and I never even realized it until now," he said softly, his words now filling the silence of the room. "How could I have assumed anything but goodness about you?"

For whatever reason, Willy somehow knew that this would perhaps be one of the longest nights of his life.


	17. Chapter 16: Dreams and Reality

_Before you start reading this chapter, please read the chapter title carefully before asking what the heck I had just posted. The title shouild give you an indication as to what's going on. Also make note that the first half of this is in italics for a reason. I'm not trying to make things hard for people to understand, that's just how this chapter is set up. It's going to lead into some future events that are rather important for the continuation of this story. This is actually one of my favorite parts in the story...at least what has been posted._

_Now for the reviews, I know that Ya Ya makes a very good point about her behavior at the end of the chapter. Having been in a somewhat delirious state I figured that I would play with Willy's mind, which will be touched on here in this chapter, but I also plan on drawing back to that moment in later chapters. But yeah, I'd be a bit hesitant around Willy too, so there's nothing wrong with what you said about it, I can agree with you, but I'm trying to show so many varied sides of her character so that he doesn't reallyy know which one is really true. This chapter, you're going to find out more about that._

_Victory Starr, thanks again for the encouragement, I really am appreciating your comments. It really makes me feel the motivation to continue with this tale._

_La Vik., just stay tuned, and yes, Clara does seem like the Mom-figure here. She has a very strong instinct and her manner and concern is really nice. I noticed that in the film and liked her a lot. I think, actually, she's a better representation of Charlie's mom than in the 05 film. Maybe because the other Mrs. Bucket didn't get much screen time, who knows, but yeah, I liked this blonde headed lady that they cast for that role, she was a great counter for the fancies of Grandpa Joe._

_Oh well, thanks again for the reviews, and here's hoping that you enjoy this latest installment._

_Edited April 21, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 16: Dreams and Reality**

_Tamara soon found herself back inside the beige colored room, her eyes trying to take in the overall essence of the place. She shoved the blankets aside and crawled out of bed, the dim lighting not giving way to any visible traits that she might have had from the pepper exposure._

_She walked over to the tray that had apparently been brought there during the time that she had been asleep. She carefully opened the lid, and felt the pungent odors of cooked mushrooms and bell peppers filling her nostrils. She stared down at the omelet as an involuntary groan emerged from between her pursed lips._

_What sort of game was this guy playing? She asked herself. First he makes blind accusations, and then when I try to tell him that I'm allergic to the food he brought, he doesn't believe me. Instead he continues to torment me with food I cannot even eat._

_Without thinking about what she was doing, she picked up the tray and threw it across the room. The sounds of silverware clanging as it hit the floor and the egg, pepper and mushroom smearing itself across the wall as though a modern day Picasso._

_She slowly made her way across the room. As soon as she reached the door, she raised her fist with the intention of banging on it, but was surprised when it slowly creaked open. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but instead of waiting for someone to return and lock the door, she slowly crept out of the room, her hand slowly closing it behind her as she started to distance herself from it._

_Turning, she looked around to insure herself that no one was around. The further she distanced herself from the room, the quicker she came to the realization that having left was completely futile. The corridors, although well lit, seemed to go in virtual circles._

_Each and every time she opened a door, the next one seemed to lead her into a virtual labyrinth of even more corridors and doors. Tamara was quickly loosing herself in what seemed to be a large and very frightening web of passageways and doorways. Her eyes closed momentarily as she continued along the path, but soon after making a turn, she found herself in another place that seemed like the very same corridor she had just left. At this moment, she wished that she was now back inside the boring beige room where at least she did not feel as though she was literally going in circles._

_After about ten more minutes of walking, the lights suddenly dimmed to shadows, now somehow forcing her eyes to adjust to the strange new lighting. Along the walls she could see images of large eyes and probing fingers that seemed to extend out from it. The lighting now flickering as the stereophonic sounds filled her ears._

"_I know where you are, Tamara Jenkins and I know where you've been," a familiar sounding voice suddenly filled her ears. The voice, instead of belonging to Willy Wonka, belonged to Neil Kirkwood. As her eyes widened, the voice continued. "I can follow you to the ends of the earth if I must. You are not safe anywhere. You had your chance when I offered you the security under my wing, but you betrayed me, and for that you must suffer the consequences…and suffer you shall."_

_The voice continued as she silently walked. She clasped her hands together, as she tried without success at abating the trembling that seemed to be overwhelming her. After several seconds, she noticed that the eyes had abruptly shifted, thus giving her the feeling that they were following her wherever she went. Without warning, she screamed, the sounds of her own voice now emerging loud to her ears, but it sounded as though she was now screaming into a bottomless void._

_Trying to shut everything out, Tamara continued to walk, her steps now starting to echo in her ears, each one in steady rhythm with her soft sobbing. Contrary to her best efforts, she now knew that with each step she took, the sounds that resonated around her seemed to grow louder. She stopped abruptly, but instead of everything ceasing, the sounds continued to echo in her ears. It was at that moment that she glanced down and noticed that she was barefoot and there was no way she could have made such plodding steps._

_Instead of remaining where she was, she started to walk even faster than before, the fear gradually growing until she was completely delirious with anxiety. As she bit down on her lip, the sounds of the familiar voice seemed to echo in from all directions. "I will not let you get away." As her body continued to tremble uncontrollably, she wrapped her arms around herself as her breathing grew heavier._

_The strange feelings continued and she realized that the mind games were being played by the angry boyfriend and not by the man who had mistaken her for another. It was as though she was being forced to take some sort of twisted psychological test. She inhaled slowly but managed to continue her trek down yet another twisted hallway that seemed to go on forever. Seconds later, she realized that the plodding footsteps behind her were getting louder._

_As the strange sounds of breathing could once again be heard from all around, the fear mounted with each and every step she took. She turned and glanced over her shoulder only to see a beam of light shooting out from one end of the hallway to the other._

_Resting her hand over her chest, she tried with all her might to calm herself down. This was nothing but a dream, she tried to think rationally, but try as she might, she could not coerce herself to awaken. Everything that was happening was so intense that she was starting to think that there was nothing in the world that could possibly wake her up._

_She continued to unconsciously glance back over her shoulder in the same manner in which she had done on the streets of Somerdale when Neil had tormented her. It was clear that logic told her that these fears were now getting the better of her._

_By this time, her heartbeat was racing a mile a minute and she knew that if this kept up, she'd have a nervous breakdown, dream or no. "Please God," she whispered as she sank to the ground. "Please let this terror stop." Her words trailed as she felt herself beginning to cry hysterically, her voice now filling the corridor, the sounds of the breathing and the steps fading. She wrapped her arms tightly around her body._

_When a hand suddenly rested on her shoulder, she released a blood-curdling scream._

* * *

As the pleasant sounds of dawn were abruptly shattered by Tamara's frightened cries, Willy was abruptly jarred out of his sleep. The first thing he noticed was that the light that was streaming through the room where he was seated. He raised his head and looked over at the window before feeling himself hurled back to the present and to the young woman's terrified screams.

After his conversation with Bill the night before, the chocolatier somehow felt obligated to remaining seated at her bedside throughout the night and rendering assistance if it was needed.

Although now she was looking somewhat better since he had administered the medication, she was still coping with the after-effects of the contamination. In addition to that, she was also coping with the circumstances that had brought her to the factory in the first place.

When another scream broke into his contemplations, he noticed that she was now thrashing about on the bed. Perhaps she looked better physically, but now he was starting to wonder when, or even if, she would be emotionally well enough to leave the factory. It seemed abundantly clear, that given her present state, that today would not be the day. He had told her that she could stay until she was well enough to go home, but now with all of these things happening to her, he pondered if she would even be able to.

Her hands were presently flailing all about, no doubt trying to strike some invisible tormentor. Without thinking about what he was doing, he leaned towards her and reached for both of her arms. As soon as he managed to capture them, he felt one of her hands slapping his face violently.

"Tamara, wake up," he spoke as he cringed from the impact of the blow. Firmly, but still gently, he tried to shake her as a means to get her to stop screaming. When she did not stop, he looked down into her face, and could see the sweat beading against her forehead. She continued to restlessly move about, her eyes remaining tightly closed as though trying to shut out the rest of the world.

For his part, Willy started to ponder what exactly he could do to render assistance. She seemed to be completely consumed in a nightmare and he was at a loss as to how to go about helping her when she was so terrified.

What have I done? He asked himself for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. Instead of contemplating this further, he took a deep breath and gave her another firm shake. "Come on, Tamara, do wake up," he pleaded softly with her.

After what seemed like an eternity, and much to his relief, the girl wearily began to come out of the dream. Her eyes slowly opened, and he could now see the streams of moisture that were making a steady trek down over her face.

Without so much as speaking, she released a loud pain-filled wail as she collapsed against him, her body trembling as her arms folded against his chest.

Instead of speaking, the chocolatier wrapped his arms around her and allowed her to cry against him. It seemed pointedly clear to him that she was trying to decide whether or not to cry or continue concealing her emotions. Somehow, he could tell that she was still petrified of him, but her emotions were now winning the battle and this left her shaking like a leaf in his arms.

Wordlessly, he brushed his hand through her hair, the warmth of her skin meeting his expectant fingers. "It's alright," he whispered, his eyes closing momentarily as he tried to find the words that he wanted to say. "You're safe now." Gently, he brushed his hand along her tearstained face.

After some moments had passed, she wearily nodded as if to acknowledge his words. She then began to rub her hand across her face, the blood from her now bleeding lower lip smearing across one of her cheeks. "I'm s-so s-scared," she managed to stutter. Her eyes were still clamped shut, the fear that encased her making her body shudder contrary to the hold he exerted.

Willy momentarily allowed his eyes to close as well. He was fully aware that it was his actions that had contributed to her condition. Now, he sat holding her in his arms and realizing that he would now do whatever he could to help her.

Eventually, he opened his eyes and spoke, his voice soft. "I know you're afraid, but no one's going to hurt you, Tamara."

She said nothing; instead, she turned so that the side of her head would be pressed against his chest. She then moved her hands so that her flat palms were resting on either side of her face, the touch still detectable.

Willy was no longer confused. As he contemplated the events of the night before, he could now tell that the trembling and crying woman now resting in his arms was the real Tamara Jenkins and now she was finally showing him her true self.

As her breathing started to return to normal, he waited for her to raise her head and look at him. When she did, he spoke, his voice laced in gentility. "Are you alright?"

"I-I think so," she whispered.

"You had a pretty bad nightmare, didn't you?" He asked.

"I guess," she said but closed her eyes.

"Would it help if you were to tell me about it? I mean; it might make you feel a little bit better."

She shook her head sporadically. "N-no, I-I just want to forget…to forget it ever happened." As her last words emerged, for some reason, Willy could tell that she was partially consumed in the contents of her dream. At the very same instance, he wondered how much of her reality was actually consumed in those words. She continued to grip the front of his vest, her face still showing the overt signs of anxiety.

Willy continued to stroke her hair. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice filled with gentility. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Tamara tried to take a deep breath, but she could not calm down. Instead, she remained where she was. After several minutes, she raised her head and looked up at him. What she saw emanating from him was gentleness and acceptance.

Despite her conscience, which was telling her that she should be angry with him, those feelings seemed to wash away with the tears that she was shedding. Everything that Bill had told her about Willy Wonka somehow rang true. The chocolatier was not being nice to her because he was afraid of her filing charges against him…

…He was being nice because that was what he was.


	18. Chapter 17: A Long Overdue Discussion

_Not much to say, this sort of takes up where the last chapter left off. Ya Ya and Victory Starr, many thanks again for the reviews. I really appreciate the fact that you are reading this and letting me know what you think._

_I seem to be the only one posting this week. Where is everyone? This story has been at the top of the list since Monday, and I've only posted 2 updates since. Someone better post soon or I may have to go elsewhere for good fiction and I've been rather addicted to Wonkaverse these days._

_Yes, Tamara is starting to see Willy as he is, and I'm glad too. I loved writing her realizing his goodness. Please keep me posted on how this is going. I really enjoy your reviews._

_Victory Starr, the sentence has been cleaned up a bit, let me know if if still sounds awkward._

_Edited April 21, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 17: A Long Overdue Discussion**

After some time had passed, she inched her way out of his arms and backed away from him. A coldness washed over her as the contact was broken and she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend on doing that."

"Don't worry about it," he said gently. "I'm really grateful that I could at least be there for you."

There it was again, that kind acceptance and reassurance. Why did this have to happen? She asked herself. Not knowing what to say, she bit down on her lip unconsciously only to feel the soft fingers of the chocolatier touching the affected area.

"You really shouldn't do that, you've already caused it to start bleeding." He said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and ever so gently, he pressed it against her lower lip. "Is that better?"

She nodded. "Yes, t-thank you."

Willy nodded, but after several moments had passed, he inhaled slowly and began to speak. "Tamara, what happened that caused you to have such a terrible nightmare? You were screaming as though you were being tortured."

She took a deep breath, but raised her head and looked at him. "I-I was just…trying to get away from…someone."

"Was this your dream or reality?" He asked.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"I don't know if it was just me, but your actions the other night when we spoke on the bench sort of mirror what you said just now. The thing is, you kept looking over your shoulder as though you were afraid. I figured that something was wrong, but I didn't inquire as to whom or what you were thinking about."

"I d-didn't know I was doing that until you told me." Instead of going into detail about this, she closed her eyes.

"You know, I'm not a psychologist, but it might actually help get rid of the nightmares if you were talk about it," he said gently. "I realize that I am perhaps the last person you would want to spill your guts to…" his voice tapered off as he regarded her. Her face had become even redder in color, and he figured that she had remembered exactly what had happened in the Beige Room. A light blush tinged his cheeks as he pondered what he had just said. "…I mean…oh wangdoodle, that was definitely the wrong wording, wasn't it?"

He paused, but after several seconds, he released a pent up breath and allowed his next words to emerge. "If you want to talk about it, then I'm here and I will listen." As if to emphasize this point, he reached over and took her hand gently in his and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Tamara could say nothing for several moments, instead she stared down at where his hand was holding hers. Despite her unwillingness to admit it, she actually liked the feeling of his touch. She had always imagined that his hands were coarse from years of laboring and making candy, but in reality, they were not. The skin was smooth and soft, and that seemed to encase so many of the things that no one really knew about this man.

Deep down inside, just from hearing his words, she somehow realized that she could talk to him, and that he would understand her feelings perhaps better than anyone else would.

When she was finally able to speak, her words emerged in a soft murmur. "I'm trying to stay away from my ex-boyfriend," she confessed, but looked away.

"It would seem as though you had a pretty messy breakup, if that's the case," he said, his voice filled with compassionate undertones.

Tamara nodded. "W-when we broke up, he completely freaked out and got really angry with me. He started spreading rumors around town that I was trying to make out with every guy I met. These rumors eventually got back to my boss and he pulled me aside and said that under no uncertain terms was he interested in me. I had no idea where that came from, but three weeks later, I was fired. My family was completely outraged and wanted me to call a lawyer and sue him, but I told them that I wasn't interested in getting even or ever going back. I suppose, I interpreted those events as a sign that it was time for me to get out of town, so that's what I did."

"Your ex-boyfriend's name was the name you said the night before you got sick, correct?" He asked.

She nodded, her hand once more sliding out of his hold as she took a deep breath. "When all this started, I figured that Neil was behind it. That he had somehow put you up to doing this. Then, when I heard you say Belinda's name, I realized that my assumptions were wrong. This wasn't about Neil at all, but it reminded me so much of the things he had done. It was strange, but a small part of me was kind of relieved, but there was another part of me that was terrified. I had no idea what was going to happen next."

Willy looked at her. "Will you forgive me for that?"

"I want to," she whispered. "I mean; when you helped me that morning after I got sick all over the place, I felt so torn."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a part of me that's so angry, and a part that's scared," she shook her head. "Then there's this other part that sees something in you that is nice…"

"…Nice?" He asked.

She nodded, her eyes closing for a moment. "Not very many people would have offered to even help me like you did."

"I will admit that that was a pretty disgusting situation, but I couldn't have done otherwise," he admitted. "After all, you did got sick trying to prove a point. What sort of person would I have been to not have helped you?"

"I don't know," she said softly. "Just please don't try and give me anything else that I'm allergic to."

"You have my word," he said simply, but instead of elaborating on that, his next question emerged, the curiosity getting the better of him. "I know that this seems a bit wrong of me to ask, but what else did this Neil person do after you broke up with him?"

"Pretty much the same things that I can imagine Belinda doing to you. H-he'd send me letters telling me that something terrible was going to happen if I didn't go back to him. When I wouldn't respond to these threats then he'd turn around and send pictures of us where my head was cut off and it would be lined with red ink…" She shook her head her hand self-consciously raising and covering her neck. "After a time, I just got so scared that I knew that I had to get out of there. So, I decided to move here to this town, just to get away from him. Instead of finding a full-time job, though, I now sell candy part-time and have to live with a woman who is psychologically not all there."

"I had no idea," Willy said softly. He took a deep breath. "I know that I brought back some very painful memories to you. Although, I know that my actions were quite drastic, I really didn't know what else to do. Tamara, I really didn't."

"Usually women are the victims of this kind of thing," she said softly. "I never knew that a man could find himself feeling threatened by someone like that. I just know that it's scary."

"Yes, it is quite scary," Willy said with an unhappy sigh. "I never thought that such a thing could happen to me. Tamara, I'm nothing more than a candy maker who loves what he does. I'm not even an actor or singer."

"But you are well known," she said weakly. "You're a very famous person because what you create is so extraordinary."

"Maybe, but do you know what is so hard about this?" He asked.

"What?"

"It may sound rather strange to you, but right now I feel quite alone in all of this," he said weakly. He took a deep breath and released it after several moments. Instead of waiting for her to speak, he continued, his blue eyes carrying traces of fatigue. "Please understand, this is not a ploy for sympathy, it's just a fact of my existence."

"You really feel alone?" Tamara asked as she raised her head and looked at him. When she saw him nodding slowly, her eyes widened. Was it possible that the world famous chocolatier carried the exact same feelings and emotions she did? She waited, her words hanging in the air for several minutes. She reached over and touched his hand. "I always assumed that you were surrounded by friends."

"I have a few friends, yes, but none of them really know or understand how I feel right now," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not like you apparently do."

"Me?" She shook her head. "But, Mr. Wonka, I'm just a boring and ordinary person who is worried and afraid."

"You are not boring or ordinary as you may think," he said. "In fact, I think you are far more than that."

"Are you saying that just to flatter me?" She asked.

"No, I'm saying it because it's the truth," he smiled weakly at her. "You honored me by sharing something with me today. It takes a pretty unique and trusting person to find the courage to do that." He took a deep breath. "I am wont to say that in comparison, I must seem rather naïve."

"No, not naïve," she lowered her head. "You're just worried…and…afraid." As the last word emerged, she inhaled sharply as the parallel between them washed over her. After several moments, she raised her head and saw that he was nodding.

"You know Charlie said the same thing to me several days ago and yet I did not feel too terribly inclined to believe him," he said softly. "Thank you."

"For what?" She asked.

"Your kindness. I do know that I am perhaps not deserving of it, but I do appreciate it," he pulled his hand away and took a deep breath.

The young woman could do nothing except offer him a bashful nod.

After several minutes, the silence started to feel as though it was suffocating her, and she spoke, her next words emerging as a sort of confession. "You know, when I first got here, I was afraid that you would be angry with me when you discovered that I was not Belinda."

"I don't think I could hurt anyone," he said simply. "Right now, even if Belinda was standing in front of me, I could do nothing. I suppose I have come to realize that it's simply not my way."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She began to pick at the blankets that covered her, the softness feeling rather like the finest silk in the world. "We do have one thing in common, though."

"Being afraid?" Willy asked.

She nodded. "Yes, and although I believe you, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit scared. The truth is, I have never been so afraid in my life."

"I did this to you," he whispered as he reached for her hand and once he held it, he brought it slowly to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss.

She watched this and despite her unwillingness to feel anything towards him, she did, and the hint of a blush covered her cheeks. Before she could speak, Willy looked at her, his next words emerging. "Would you tell me why you came to the factory two days ago?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I guess I came by because I…I…I mean…"

"…Because you understood how I felt?" His question emerged.

She nodded. "After I left work, I was trying to get my thoughts straight about everything that was happening. I needed some time to think through all of these things. My boss sent me home because I was so frazzled by what Belinda was doing. I suppose my daily walks by the factory could have roused suspicions, but I just liked it because the scent of chocolate always made me feel relaxed. But, then when I got there, I s-saw all those balloons and wanted nothing more than to get rid of them before you saw them. That was the only thought that was going through my mind. I remembered what it felt like to have someone hunting me down like I was an…animal…"

She shook her head as the words faded. She could feel the tears as they streamed from beneath her eyes. After several moments had passed, she could feel herself breaking down, the emotions finally getting the better of her. She covered her face with her hands and allowed herself to weep bitterly.

Before Willy could say a word, she had somehow gotten some sort of control of her emotions. She took a deep and staggering breath before her wavering words once more emerged. "Y-you asked me about the dream I had earlier. I'll tell you what I remember about it. I-I was in this strange place with countless halls and corridors and I couldn't find my way out. It was like walking through a labyrinth and at each turn, it revealed another door that led into even more hallways. I suddenly felt like I was going in circles and was seeing no end in sight. I-I kept trying find a way out and wanting only to scream at how scary and alone I felt." She wrapped her arms around herself. "T-then Neil's voice filled my head, and I was standing alone in this corridor and it felt like his eyes were following every movement I made…" Her voice trailed off and she took a gasping breath as she tried to continue speaking. "…I kept hearing his voice and the words followed me everywhere I went."

"What did he say, Tamara?" Willy asked softly.

"He said, 'you cannot get away from me, you will suffer for having left me alone… You will suffer.' H-he was screaming that at me and I was so scared that I screamed as loud as I could because I wanted out…I just wanted out…"

Willy wordlessly got to his feet and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled her gently into his arms until she felt herself being shifted and she was resting in his embrace.

At that moment, he spoke, his words soft. "It's alright to cry," he whispered as he meshed his hands in her hair and held her gently against his chest, the softness of his vest once again touching one side of her face. His other hand was lightly stroking her cheek.

Instead of fighting against his comforting hold, she allowed herself to rest in his embrace, her body still trembling uncontrollably. Never in her life had she ever felt as comforted and safe in someone's arms as she felt at that precise moment.

Now, contrary to the awkward circumstances in which they had become acquainted, Tamara was starting to feel as though she had found a friend who understood how she felt. Without thinking about what she was doing, she allowed her arms to wind slowly around him.


	19. Chapter 18: The Silver Lining

_Hi and welcome to the next chapter of this story. I have also managed to work on my other story today and managed to post both updates. I wanted to say that I really appreciate the reviews._

_Victory-Starr, thanks for pointing that out in the last chapter, I fixed it up and hopefully the wording is a lot better. Yes, that spilling guts line, I had a laugh when I wrote that, so I was sort of hoping that someone would catch it. So glad you did._

_Ya Ya, just wait on the Neil angle. Of course, getting kidnapped and forced to eat Slugworth bars does hold a certain amount of appeal. Not to worry, the jerks always get their just desserts, and they aren't tasty like Wonka Bars. _

_Hoverbord, hope you continue to enjoy, thanks for letting me know. It's appreciated and I hope you continue to enjoy._

_Without further ado, here's the next chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to review. It's always a motivational thing. Oh and if you like this, then have a look at some of the other Wilder Wonka offerings here. La Vik's story is really good, as is Ajestice's. _

_Happy reading!_

_Edited April 21, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Silver Lining**

They remained in this hold for several minutes, Willy brushing his hands along the young woman's cheeks as well as in her hair. He smiled when he felt her arms wrapping around him, the warmth of her hold somehow drawing him in and making him feel an extreme abundance of emotion.

His gaze returned to the young woman who lay wrapped securely in his arms. He never would have imagined that she would so willingly trust him enough to rest there, but a slight smile covered his face as he maintained his gentle hold on her. Perhaps if anything, this was the silver lining to this whole sorted mess.

As her sobs subsided, she began to back away from him, her head rising until her eyes met his. "I seemed to have gotten you all wet," she said shyly all the while noticing how his vest was covered with the moisture from her tears.

"You needed it," he said, his honest words simple. "Perhaps it was not just what happened with Belinda, but what had been happening before. You know, I think you just went and cried for both of us."

"What do you mean?" She sniffed.

"Well, perhaps it is not the greatest masculine tradition to admit this, but there are moments when I wish that I could cry out in fear and rage, but I can't. What would happen if the media found out that I had cried or gotten scared? They would make me out to be a coward, weakling, or something even worse."

"You're not," she said. "And for the record, I don't read tabloids."

"Nor do I," he smiled as he reached for one of her hands and when she surrendered it, he continued. "Perhaps it is quite a normal reaction. Crying is an emotional outburst like any other." With his free hand, he reached over and touched her face, his fingers lightly brushing the remainder of her tears away.

"I-I don't know," she whispered. "I just know that I'm tired of being afraid all the time. That's why I wanted to get rid of those balloons, because I was afraid of what I saw. The truth is, they scared me because they reminded me of Neil," she paused, but raised her head and looked at him. "Maybe I didn't react to them as I should have."

"Maybe you did, and perhaps I was the one who got the wrong impressions about what your intentions were and…" This time, his words trailed.

"…abducted me," she finished, her gaze still on him.

He nodded slowly. "Yes."

"I don't blame you for wanting to get back at her, though," she whispered.

"You don't?" He asked.

"No, I suppose I was just mad because you didn't believe me when I told you who I was," she said.

"That was it?"

She nodded. "Does that surprise you?"

"I should say so. Perhaps I should have listened to my inner voice, because it kept telling me that you were perhaps not the person I thought you were," he said. "Then yesterday morning when I was bringing you to this room, one of my workers came up to me and said that Charlie had seen Belinda squeezing another small parcel into the post box at the front gate. After she had left, he went and fished it out and brought it to someone inside before going to school."

"What were you thinking when that happened?" She asked. "Or do I really want to know?"

"Maybe one day I'll tell you, when I actually have it figured out," he said with a slight smile on his face. When that disappeared, he looked deeply into her eyes. "Tamara, do you know what happened to me the night we met?"

"No," she whispered. "What happened?"

"I had received another parcel from Belinda. I didn't know her name, I just knew BH. Two days ago after I found the balloons, there was another parcel with the name Belinda. I still don't know her last name."

"It's Hutchinson," she whispered. "Was that parcel in your lap the one from her? I couldn't help but notice that you looked a little bit unnerved."

"You noticed that?" He asked.

She nodded. "Well, you sort of looked like I have often felt since leaving Somerdale and moving to this town." She timidly reached over and touched his face, her fingertips brushing along the smoothness of his cheek. When he raised his head, she lowered her hand.

"I did not realize that what was happening to me was really as scary as it was. Others around me were noticing it, but I had never been afraid of anyone before. Somehow it started to feel out of character for me. Generally, I pride myself on always knowing what to expect or at the very least, what is happening. The strange thing is, there were other people telling me that I was not doing well, but I wasn't consciously aware of it until that day," he said.

Tamara took a deep breath as she looked over at him. "After we met on the bench that night, I had no idea about who you were. I just figured that you were a nice man who was just another nameless face in the crowd. Then after I left, I went home and saw all those terrible things on the table. There was a melted mass of chocolate on one end, those dreadful balloons and shredded candy bar wrappers from Slugworth bars. When I made that discovery, I got so scared. Then a few minutes later, Belinda came out into the room and told me what she intended to do." The young woman shook her head as her next words emerged. "I told her that she was crazy and that no one would want to be trailed like that."

"You were right," he said. "And this was entirely based on your own experiences."

"Yes," Tamara whispered. "S-she picked up this knife and held it in front of me. It was as though she was warning me of something. I initially thought that she was going to attack me with it. I couldn't think straight, I just got scared. In my own home, I was so terrified…" her voice trailed off and she pulled her hand from his hold so that she could cover her face with it.

"You don't have to go back there, Tamara," Willy said firmly. "I would strongly recommend that you not go back there, at least not alone if Belinda is pulling this strange sort of horror trip on you."

Tamara nodded. "I had lived under the same roof with her all this time and I had no idea that she was going to turn around and do this to someone. Oh God it scares me and it reminds me so much of what I ran away from."

"I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me," Willy repeated these words, the regret laced in them.

"It's not your fault," she whispered.

"Yes, it is," he said weakly. "It _is_ my fault, Tamara."

She looked up at him, her voice still cracking. "It felt as though I was being backed into a corner because Belinda's obsessed and would do anything to catch your attention."

"Is that what she said?" Willy asked.

Tamara nodded. "Pretty much."

Willy stared at the young woman for several minutes, his eyes closing slightly as guilt continued to wash over him. "What should I do?"

Tamara shook her head. "I-I don't know. I mean; she's pretty nuts about this. S-she called it a 'project', and insisted that y-you'd be flattered, but I knew that you wouldn't be. I just knew it."

"No, I didn't ask about what I should about her, I asked what I should do for you," he began. "My God, Tamara, I did something quite dreadful to you and I have to rectify it somehow."

She lowered her head as her eyes closed. He was right, he had hurt her; and quite terribly at that. The tears seemed to give that away, yet, as they washed down over her face, the chocolatier came to the realization of how fragile she really was.

He watched her for several moments, his eyes closing slightly as he stared down at her. Contrary to her delicate emotions and fragile demeanor, she really looked as though she was ready and willing to face this with all the courage and bravery that was manifested in her.

Even after their heartfelt words, he was surprised that she did not speak harshly towards him. He was not quite certain as to whether or not this was a good or bad thing. Perhaps he would have preferred her to yell at him instead of face him with so much boldness.

He too had been afraid, but while his fear had terrified her, her fear had mortified him.

As the silence washed over them, Willy eventually spoke, his words the most heartfelt ones he could muster. "I truly am sorry for having hurt you. I did what I did because I really didn't know what to do."

"Y-you were scared," she whispered bravely.

He nodded.

"Would it help if I told you that all was forgiven?" She asked weakly.

"No, because I don't know if it's true or I'm even worthy of that," he said honestly. "Perhaps, it might actually help more if you were to yell at me, and tell me what a foolish, insensitive, heartless, and cruel idiot I have been. Tell me that you hate me for what I did to you, that my actions were terrible and wrong." He paused. "Or are you afraid of how I might react to that? Is that why you haven't said as much yet?"

"No, but you're already doing a good enough job of it yourself, you don't need my words to boot," Tamara whispered. "I don't think you're terrible, though. I think you just got _scared_." As she spoke, the last word emerged as more or less as a loud cry.

Willy nodded, but instead, he started to stand up, his eyes closing. "Your nightmares were obviously catalyzed by my actions, though," he said truthfully.

"I was having them long before I came here," she confessed. "And you gave me the chance to talk about it."

Willy took a deep breath. "Perhaps, but I still harbor a great deal of anger towards myself for the things that I put you through. I know that what I did was something simply dreadful, something that reminded you of a time in your life that you would have assumed forgetting."

Tamara nodded; she could not deny his words. "OK, you're right, it _was_ scary," she admitted softly, but watched as he slowly seated himself back on the chair. "Are you happy now?"

"You're an amazing person, Tamara, and if you wish, you may stay here for as long as you like," he said softly. "I want to try and do what I can to be a proper host, but I don't want you to feel obligated or worse yet, like a prisoner."

"Why?" She asked softly.

"Maybe I just don't want you go back to a place where you feel afraid," he said.

"You mean; you're going to let me stay here because you know that I'm not ready to go back to my apartment?" She asked wearily.

"I don't know of too many people who would feel brave enough to go back to that sort of situation," he said honestly.

"I know that I'm too afraid to even try to face her and tell her to back off." She shuddered despite her attempts at concealing it. "What is happening to me? Anymore, I feel like a coward."

"You're no coward, you're just having flashbacks to your other experiences and now you're just coping with the resulting anxiety. After all, 'there is no such thing as pure pleasure, some anxiety always goes with it' (_Ovid_)." He smiled slightly, but continued speaking. "Just try not to worry, I'm here and I'll see to your needs. I suppose we could both need some time to work through all of these things."

She nodded but allowed her body to collapse back against the pillows as he wordlessly brushed a lock of her hair out from in front of her face.

After several moments of silence passed, she looked at him, her eyes now staring into a pair of sympathetic blue ones. "Do you really want to make it up to me?" She eventually asked, her words soft.

"Of course, I want to be your friend," he responded sincerely.

"Then would you bring me a Marshmallow Round?" she asked.

"Do you really think that in your present condition that you should be eating candy?" He asked.

"This inquiry emerging from a man who is the greatest candy maker in the world?" she responded to his question with one of her own.

"Yes, well that may be, but you were still quite sick," he said with quirky undertones in his voice. "I never forget a smell, after all."

Tamara opened her eyes upon hearing these words, but instead of immediately responding, she pouted at him. "That wasn't very nice, and besides it also wasn't intended. I would have preferred to not have gotten sick at all, thank you."

"I know, but please permit me to say that it was quite a powerful experience for both of us," he smirked. "It was actually worth it for me to do something that might have helped, considering that I had made such a mess of things."

"Was that really the way it was for you?" She asked. "Because for me it was probably the most degrading, disgusting, and humiliating experience that I have ever had in my life."

"I suppose no one wants to remember such things," he said. "But, it did give me a chance to do something to help you." He reached over an brushed the side of his hand against her cheek, the touch light, but filled with his own brand of reassurance.

"I still think that instead of remembering something that humiliating might be remedied by some of your wonderful candy," she said stubbornly. As these words emerged, she folded her arms over her chest and regarded him through hesitant, but still playful green eyes. "Besides, you did say that you would do whatever you could to make it up to me, and that's a very small favor to ask."

Willy took a deep breath. "Very amusing, but just so you will know that I am a man of my word, I'll see what I can do. For now, perhaps this will help you to feel a little bit better."

"What is it?" She asked as he began to take the lid off the small bottle.

"It's medicine, extract from the red cocoa bean."

"But cocoa beans aren't red," she objected.

"I saw some that were," he said with a smile. "Now, give me your hand." When she continued to regard him somewhat skeptically, he continued. "I know that I gave you your medicine last night, but this should also help to counter the side-effects of the contaminated food."

Tamara extended her hand to him and watched him pour a drop onto her flat palm.

"Now, lick it off," he said, but when she did not move, he continued. "Trust me, it will help."

Tamara did as he said, but as soon as she tasted it, she cringed, the taste unusually bitter. "Yuck, this stuff tastes terrible."

"It's medicine, it's supposed to," he smirked. "Now, why don't you try and get some more rest?" Before she could respond to his words, he took a deep breath. "If you have another nightmare I'll be nearby and will try to help you to wake up. Contrary to my behavior before, I do hope you recognize that you can trust me."

Tamara nodded and allowed her body to lean back against the pillow.


	20. Chapter 19: Another Angle

_Here's more fun stuff on Belinda. If she seems creepier than creepy, then I have accomplished my task with this chapter. I hate the fact that kids are involved, but that's where the inspiration is guiding me and stalkers generally have no conscience with regards to age. I hate to say it, but that's generally how they are, they will use whatever they can to accomplish a means to an end._

_At any rate. To my reviewers, thanks again for the support. Not much to say besides that, Ya Ya, Victory-Starr and Hoverbord, I hope you continue to enjoy._

_Please, if you're reading this, give a shout out as to how it's shaping up. It's muchly appreciated and it does add motivation. Even short and sweet reviews are a sign that I didn't put you to sleep or something. I never knew the thing about blond vs. blonde, but I went ahead and changed it._

_Enjoy._

_Edited April 23, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 19: Another Angle**

Later that same afternoon, Belinda stood outside the factory gates on the street. She had contemplated going back home and trying to find something to occupy herself. There was not much left for her to do; without a job, she was pretty much split between being at home and hanging around the outer perimeters of the factory.

Like Tamara, Belinda had very few friends to speak of, but instead of occupying her time with concerns about her own dwindling social life, she was more or less concentrated on her roommate's whereabouts.

It was clear to Belinda that the younger woman had no real friends in this town. Tamara had moved here less than a month before she had relocated. After only a few weeks, Belinda had managed to memorize the other woman's schedule, and could guess where she was going to be at any given hour of the day. Although she had worked in her chosen field for several weeks, she had, since getting fired tried to play off that she was still working. After seemingly close observation, it was obvious that she was not.

Belinda knew that Tamara's time seemed to be split evenly between Bill's candy shop, Hudson's thrift store, and their apartment. The only people Tamara seemed to associate with were men who were already taken or far too old for her.

The overall essence of Tamara's life seemed to be dull bordering on boring and Belinda had drawn some rather twisted conclusions about her roommate's activities since her disappearance. Perhaps, it was for that reason that Belinda was determined to find out specifically where Tamara had run off to.

Of course, at the same time, she could not help but ponder why it was that Tamara Jenkins had settled here in the first place. After all, aside from Willy Wonka's factory, there was absolutely nothing of any interest going on in this town. Of course, the factory was reason enough for her to have moved there, but no one really had to know that. Perhaps Tamara had had a similar motivation in mind and there actually existed something to the supposition that she was in love with Willy Wonka herself. It seemed obvious that the basis of her arguments the other night were nothing more than a useless attempt at diverting Belinda's focus from her project.

A frown abruptly extended its way across her face, as she contemplated how Somerdale had a larger social scene and even better employment options. It was more than clear to her way of thinking that Tamara could have done better than just selling candy part-time.

Belinda took a deep breath as she wound her hand around one of the black bars that separated her from the internal confines of the factory's courtyard. As her gaze rested on the highest smokestack, her expression took on an almost dreamy and faraway look. It was no secret that she always got that way when she would look at this particular place and right now another thought was cursing haphazardly through her mind.

If only there was a way for her to get inside.

She continued to hold tightly to the bars, her fingers dipping into the area beyond the gate. A smile spread its way across her face at the thought that the air on that side was different somehow than that which she as breathing. Although the gap that existed between the iron bars was not exactly narrow, it was still not wide enough for a full-grown woman, or even a child for that matter, to squeeze their way through.

Her thoughts shifted to the balloons that she had hung there several days ago. Smiling, she acknowledged the fact that they were now gone. At that moment, only a small amount of the blue confetti from the Slugworth wrappers remained on the ground.

Perhaps that meant that her clever means of adoration had been taken to a special place in the chocolatier's living area. He would no doubt choose a place of honor, she thought as she ran her hand slowly up against the metal bars. He had to, what man would not be flattered by such an overt displays of affection?

Taking a deep breath, she started to walk slowly away from the gate in order to make her way back in the direction of her apartment building. The sky overhead had taken on a cold and overcast feeling and while it was colder than usual, for some reason she liked it that way. I wonder if William likes the weather right after a rain shower, she pondered as she felt the coolness of the breeze waft against her face.

With a self-satisfied smile, she continued to walk, her thoughts drifting back to her apartment where her next parcel lay waiting for her to bring to the factory. Of course, she had already left one there that morning, the heart-shaped Marshmallow Round packages carefully tucked inside of it, as well as a letter telling him what her favorite songs were and what colors she loved to dress in.

This idea had been her next step towards getting his attention, yet she was beginning to grow indignant at having been ignored after all the effort she had painstakingly made for him. He had to have at least received one or two of the parcels she had left at the factory gates.

Why would he not answer her letters? She asked herself with some traces of annoyance. Did he not love her?

Instead of pondering these questions any further, she spotted movement at the far end of the esplanade. Concealing herself in the shadows, she watched as a teenager with dark blond hair was walking towards where she was now standing.

A satchel was draped casually over his shoulders and his eyes seemed to be staring straight ahead. He passed her, not even a word emerging from between his lips. Either he had not seen her or he was ignoring her. Concluding it was the former as opposed to the latter, she stared at his back as he walked the length of the street.

For whatever reason, this boy looked vaguely familiar. As he continued on his way, she found herself staring after him. He was dressed casually in blue denim plants and a red pullover. His hair was tousled as it blew in the cool breeze. As he reached the front gate of the factory, he stopped walking and stood staring up at the single word that stretched across the large iron gate.

Instead of calling out to him, Belinda remained concealed in the shadows. Despite her conscience that was telling her not to pressure the boy, she started to follow him. Using the shadows to conceal her actions, she slowly walked towards the front gates, her gaze still on him.

At that moment, he was carrying his belongings over to a bench and was now digging around inside the satchel.

After several minutes, she saw a golden top hat shaped key chain being pulled from it and nodding knowingly, she broke into a broad smile. This was no mistake, and it would be this particular boy who would ultimately help her find her way into the Wonka factory.

She watched as he slipped the keys into the pocket of his jacket before retrieving the bag and once more swinging it over his shoulder. He probably figured that no one was around to see him, she thought. It seemed a logical idea since the streets at this hour were pretty much deserted.

The question was no longer about 'how' she would get inside, the question was 'when', and the thought of actually seeing Willy Wonka made her giddy with excitement. She would not have to trouble herself any longer with just delivering letters. Perhaps she could read her poetry to him in person and let him speak loving words to her.

Oh, to hear the sounds of his voice addressing her, she thought with a lovesick smile on her face. He must have a smooth and sexy voice. It had to be the case, she concluded, because a coarse sounding man would somehow not even match the exquisite candy he made.

At that precise moment, all rational thought left her, and she stared at the back of the boy's head. It was an advantage to her to know that he was completely oblivious to the fact that she was even there. It seemed ironic since her gaze had not left him since he had walked by.

Belinda Wonka, she thought with a smile. That had such a nice ring to it. It would make her family gasp in astonishment for her to show up at her family gatherings with this particular man on her arm.

Nothing else seemed to matter at this point except for her to achieve the goal of finally ensnaring the one and only Willy Wonka.

When the teenager remained stationary, however, her eyes narrowed in impatience. Lead me inside the factory you silly boy, she almost spoke, but somehow managed to stop herself when a young girl rushed past her in the direction of the factory. She looked to be heading straight towards the boy her hair flying and the gingham style dress she wore flapping casually in the breeze.

Maybe she was just heading in that direction, she thought as her attention shifted back to the boy. She watched as he started to walk away from the gate, his steps slow and deliberate as he made his way down the sidewalk that led along the northern-side wall of the factory grounds.

Suddenly, the realization hit Belinda as to the identity of the boy. He was the local child who had found the last of the five Golden Tickets nearly three and a half years ago. At the very least, he reminded her of the boy whom she had read about in the paper all those years ago, albeit he was now several years older. He was also a bit taller and his hair was several shades darker, but otherwise, he was the spitting image of the boy from the contest. What was his name? She asked herself. Was it Chuck, or Chance, or Charlie…That was it, the boy had to be named Charlie.

She remained where she was, all the while hoping that he would inadvertently lead her straight into the factory. What she did not expect, or even anticipate, was to hear the young girl who had passed by moments ago calling out the boy's name, thus causing him to stop, and turn around.

It had to be a girl, Belinda thought sourly as the boy smiled and waited for her to catch up with him. So much for trying to trail the boy. Boys that age seemed to have one thing on their minds, and that was simply because of those God-forsaken hormones. This probably meant that the two kids would stand around until early spring talking about every topic under the sun.

Instead of continuing to grouse about her misfortune Belinda opted to waiting for them to end their dialogue and part company.

She inched her way closer, but still had to strain her ears in order to listen in on their conversation. Perhaps I ought to make the best of it, she concluded. These teenagers might actually give her an idea as to how she could smuggle herself into the factory.

At the very least, she could wait until they were finished and then resume following Charlie. There was no question remaining. Belinda Hutchinson was hopeful that Charlie would be the one to lead her straight into the factory, and into the arms of Willy Wonka.


	21. Chapter 20: Labyrinths

_Welcome to the next chapter of the story. This chapter is a tiny bit longer than the previous chapters, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless._

_Victory-Starr, yes, she is definitely creepy, thanks for letting me know that this is going OK. I'm really grateful to you for offering up your thoughts here. As for Charlie's cluelessness…well read on._

_YaYa, I changed the blonde to blond and actually changed it throughout the original draft of the story. I wasn't really sure about that, but when I tried it on spell check and thesaurus here, it actually worked, so I went ahead and changed it. I guess you learn something new everyday. Again thanks for verifying that Belinda is creepy. I'll keep going with this._

_Hoverbord, glad to see you back in the swing of this. Thanks for your little words of encouragement. It's appreciated._

_Please folks keep me posted on how this is going. Enjoy._

_Edited April 23, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 20:** **Labyrinths**

Several hundred meters from where Belinda was concealed, Charlie stopped walking and turned when he heard his name being called. "Hey, Charlie, wait up."

Stopping, he turned around, a small smile stretching across his face when he noticed that the person calling his name was Meagan Lovejoy. Meagan sat next to him in chemistry and was the new girl in his class. She had been at his school for close to two weeks now, her lanky body standing at middle height, her hair always tied back in a familiar ponytail. He liked her, and considered her to be smart as well as very intuitive.

She dressed in a poor, but familiar style to Charlie. Her clothes were outdated, but the gingham dress and hooded sweatshirt somehow struck a chord with him. It was as though she had had as rough a go in life as he had prior to his finding the Golden Ticket. Somehow, he found himself relating to her on many levels.

He initially said nothing, instead, he simply waited for her to catch up.

"Hey Meagan, what's up?" he asked offering a half-hearted wave as the girl neared where he was standing.

Upon reaching him, she stopped, the smile never leaving her face as she dug around in her purse for a slip of paper, her breathing somewhat heavy from having run after him. "I don't want to keep you from anything important, but did you get Mr. Turkentine's Chemistry homework assignment? Please tell me that you did because I was sort of lost in thought when he was assigning it."

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "I got it, but I couldn't help but notice that you looked sort of lost in space when we were in class."

"I hope he didn't notice it," she mused, but took a deep breath. "I mean; if I got into trouble today, my parents would have a fit. I told them I shouldn't have come today, but they said it was better than staying home and pacing."

"What's on your mind?" He asked. "I mean; throughout most of the lesson, you were obviously somewhere else."

"I guess in a way, I was," she said as she took a deep breath. "I was sort of thinking about my cousin again..."

"…How's she doing?" He asked. "You said yesterday that you weren't sure if you were going to be in class today because she was having an operation."

"Yeah, but my parents thought it was best that I go about business as usual," she confessed. "How can I when one of the most important people in my life has to go under the knife? I mean; we're talking heavy duty stuff here."

"It sounds like you got a pretty brave cousin," Charlie said. "All the same, I wish there was something I could do that might help make things easier for you."

She smiled gratefully at him. "That's really nice of you, but right now, I just wish that my family would tell me that we're moving back to Somerdale. I didn't like leaving when we did, but my dad got transferred and we had no choice. I'm stuck here, and I hate it. I have no friends and I know I'm not cut out to be the new kid in school, Charlie. I'm not cut out to be much of anything, it seems."

Charlie felt a rush of empathy for her. He knew what it felt like to be the outcast, and he imagined that it was even harder for her since she had left all her friends behind when she moved. Their peers were not always nice to her and they seemed to judge her by the way she dressed. He imagined that having to walk around in her shoes was anything but fun. "I don't know of too many people who are, but maybe things will get better for you as we go along."

"Maybe," she mused. "Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk, huh?"

Charlie took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, I know about the issue of trying to make real friends and fit in."

Meagan nodded as she fished out a pen, "I guess. So you got the assignment?"

"Yeah," he said, but pointed over to a nearby bench. "Let's go sit down and you can write it all down."

She nodded as she followed him. Sitting down, she watched as he pulled a book from his bag and opened it.

"Let's see, here it is," Charlie said after flipping through several pages. "You need to read chapter 8, part 3 on ionic bonds and do the questions for that part in the back of the chapter. Those are the questions in bold-faced print at the back of each section. There are usually only five of them and you can answer them by referring back to the earlier parts of the chapter. The problem is sometimes Mr. Turkentine collects them, and sometimes he doesn't. There's no system as to how he does it, he just does it to make sure we do all the assigned tasks."

Meagan nodded and began to write down the information that her classmate was providing. "Thanks, Charlie, I really appreciate it. You're a real life saver, you know." She smiled slightly, but instead of speaking further, she started to stand back up. Once she was on her feet, her gaze came to rest on the smokestacks of the factory. She remained standing in this fashion for several minutes.

Noting this prolonged silence, Charlie's eyes followed her gaze, but spoke, his question filling the silence of the area. "Are you alright?"

"I guess I'll know when I get home," she said, her attention abruptly diverted. It was clear that the girl had far more on her mind than just a homework assignment. "I better get going, maybe there will be some good news when I get home."

"It doesn't change the fact that you're nervous about it, though," he said.

"It stands to reason, I guess. Portia's like a sister to me." Meagan took a deep breath. "Her mother died when she was just five, that's why I feel really close to her. It's like I'm her older sister or something," she shook her head. "The truth is, I'm scared, Charlie. What if when I go home my parents tell me that she didn't survive?"

"Maybe everything will be alright," he said trying to offer her a reassuring smile. "Do you want me to call you later? Maybe we can talk about whatever news you have."

"That would be nice," she mused. "It would be great to have someone to talk to."

He nodded, but seconds later, some movement caught his eye and he turned away from her and bit down on his lip.

Without thinking, Meagan followed his gaze and saw it as well. As she looked at Charlie, she realized that the boy looked to be consumed in what could only be described as fear and anger.

"Charlie?" She eventually whispered his name. Without warning, she could feel the nervousness filling her as she recognized the profound and scary impact this was having on her classmate.

Meagan's attention eventually diverted back to where Charlie was staring, but after a moment, she turned and looked at him. She could tell that the boy's eyes were plastered on the woman who was unsuccessfully trying to conceal herself in the shadows. "Who is she?" She eventually asked.

The teenage boy turned back to face her, his face devoid of color. "I think her name's Belinda," he whispered nervously. "I've only seen her once before, and that was two days ago when she left something at the factory gate. Meagan, that woman's been stalking Willy Wonka, but she's never really taken any notice of me."

"Until now," Meagan said, her voice now filled with matter-of-fact undertones.

Charlie nodded, "Yeah, and it's really scary." He cast a glance in the direction of where Belinda was hiding, but then looked at his classmate. "You'd better go, I don't want you to get caught up in whatever this is."

"It's too late, I already am," Meagan said as the two teenagers watched as Belinda started to back away from where they were standing. "She saw me talking to you, so she's going to assume that I'm a part of it."

Charlie released a pent up breath upon seeing the woman distancing herself from them. "Thank God, she's backing up."

"I wouldn't relax if I were you, it's probably just another ploy," Meagan said with disdain. "I know how people like her think, and that woman is obviously thinking that you'll let down your guard long enough and somehow lead her straight into the factory."

With these words out, Meagan took a deep breath, her eyes closing somewhat as Charlie started to distance himself from her. Before he could completely get away from her, she took a deep breath. "Did I say something wrong?"

The boy shook his head. "No," but he contradicted himself when his gaze shifted and he was now staring up at the factory. "Just go home, Meagan."

"Well, that answers one question for me," she said softly. "You think that just because I mentioned the factory that I'm like all the others, that I only asked you for the assignment because of where you live."

"I didn't say that," he objected.

"You don't have to, I can see it in your eyes, and I know exactly what you are implying by that reaction," she said.

"Maybe we should get out of the area and discuss this elsewhere," Charlie suggested.

Agreeing, the girl started to walk down the sidewalk and away from the factory.

For his part, Charlie had to break into a run to catch up with her. When he finally managed, he cast a glance behind them and sure enough, Belinda was still following at a safer distance. "Listen, I know that you may think of me as rather strange or paranoid, but because of what happened with Willy Wonka and the Golden Ticket, not everyone wants to be my friend, they only want something from the factory. Whenever anyone mentions it, I sort of get these really strange feelings and kind of freak out," he confessed. "Now I guess you noticed that with that woman, I am really acting like a basket case."

"Well, for what it's worth, if someone was trailing me like this, then I'd probably freak out too," she said.

"I don't know if she's necessarily following me. Something is telling me that she thinks I can lead her inside," he said. "It's just like you said, but now the thing is, this has been going on for the last few weeks, and it's kind of…"

"…Scary?" She asked, thus finishing for him.

When he nodded, she looked at him. "When it comes to issues of stalking, it's probably more normal than anything else to be afraid. Remember what Officer Jacobs said when they did the lecture in Health class? It was my second day here, and they were talking about the statistics that surround it."

"Maybe, but the thing is, Willy Wonka and I are guys, and guys don't have problems like that," he said before he could stop himself.

"What kind of macho double-talk is that?" She asked, her voice a practical shout. "I thought you weren't like those flexed-muscles, hotshot, windbags at school. I guess this time I was wrong about you." With that, this time it was she who started to walk away.

"I'm not a macho," he objected, thus making her stop. "It just feels weird to be in such a vulnerable position."

Meagan glanced back over at the factory, but then turned around and looked at him. "OK, we're even then, you're not a macho, and I'm not using you," she said, but after several seconds, she leaned over towards him. "Listen Charlie, just because I know about the factory and I like Mr. Wonka's chocolate doesn't mean that I have ulterior motives, but think about what you just said. I mean; Mr. Wonka and you are considered celebrities around here. Sometimes it's not about someone loving you or him, but it's about them loving the fame and wanting their piece of it. To people like that woman, what you have is like a novelty to the rest of us." She glanced behind them and saw that Belinda was once more concealing herself, but still watching them. "The deal is, not all of us need or want that novelty."

Wordlessly, she grabbed his hand and they took off running in another direction. This time, they headed towards the side gate of the factory and into a more concealed location. When she turned back around and saw that they were alone, she shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry, but it's just that I saw her coming closer and her presence was starting to do a number on me as well."

"Yeah," Charlie mused. "So, what else did they tell you about me?"

"The other kids?" When Charlie nodded, she took a deep breath. "When I first got to school and they found out we were in the same chemistry class, they started telling me about you, and they said that you were…really lucky. Funny how people talk about people, but they refuse to go up and talk to them. Anyway, I heard a bunch of stuff about you and Mr. Wonka working together. It sounded really great, but that's not the reason I wanted to be your friend."

"I figured you knew something because you kept looking at the factory," Charlie said.

"I kept looking at it for a different reason than you think," she said. "I won't go into it now, because it's a long story. Besides, we have to figure out a way to get you back inside without that woman following you there."

"You want to help me?" He asked. "I wasn't exactly nice to you just now."

"Yeah, I know, but don't act so surprised," Meagan said. "Not every person you meet is going to want something from you. I know about you, Charlie, but that doesn't mean that I would use you. I'm not like that, you know."

Charlie started to lead her towards the old abandoned building that stood adjacent to the factory grounds. "I'll take your word for it," he said, but glanced behind them. "I can't see her but I still have this feeling that she's behind us."

"Well, at least she's making it obvious and we know of her presence," Meagan said. "That sort of gives us an advantage." As she spoke, she began to unzip her hooded sweatshirt. "Good thing Matt let me borrow this today, because I have an idea. If we can get away from her for a few minutes, then we can switch sweaters and I'll lead her on a wild goose chase." She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling.

"What if she's is armed or exposes you to danger?" Charlie asked.

"Oh get real, Charlie, she's more dangerous to you than to me," Meagan said. "Besides, she's not going to catch up with me, because I've been running in track competitions since I was nine-years-old."

Charlie nodded and the two teenagers went into the building. Once inside, they quickly switched shirts. She watched as Charlie took the hood and covered his head with it. "If she sees you, she'll think it's me."

"What about your hair?" He asked as he pulled off his sweater and handed it to her.

"I'll try and improvise since it's dark in here," she said as she unzipped hers, and they exchanged garments. Once the switch had been made, she casually stuffed the end of her ponytail in the neck of the sweater. "Now, which way should I go?"

Charlie pointed down a darkened corridor. "You can get out by the front door, but there's a virtual labyrinth back that way. Maybe that would be the best place to lead her."

Meagan took a deep breath. "OK, then I'll see you in school tomorrow, Charlie and then I can at least give you your sweater back. Thanks for saving me with that assignment." Without another word, she took off running down the corridor, her squeaking footsteps disappearing in the distance.

He remained where he was until she disappeared around a corner. For his part, he too started running through the familiar passageways trying to find a place to hide.

It was there, sitting alone in the corridor where Charlie suddenly realized that his forehead was beaded with perspiration and his hands were unusually clammy.


	22. Chapter 21: Newspapers and Suspicions

_Welcome to the next chapter of this. If you see mistakes here, please let me know. Since it's late here and I'm exhausted, my editing skills may not be all that much right now. Just let me know if you see something like an overt mistake here. I did start going over the first chapters of this to reedit them, but I want to make sure that all is on the up and up when I present these chapters to you._

_Sorry that this one is a little bit shorter, but that's life._

_As for the reviewers, thanks again you guys, I really appreciate that you are giving me some encouragement to continue this story. Sometimes it gets discouraging to not get reviews even when the view numbers are high, but I'm really grateful to those of you who give me some feedback on these stories. It takes a lot of time to write them, but I wouldn't have it any other way. So thanks to Victory-Starr, YaYa, and Hoverbord for letting me know how this is shaping up._

_Oh and the reference to the newspaper is in reference to the events of chapter 1. _

_Enjoy and YaYa, the typos were found and corrected._

_Edited April 25, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 21: Newspapers and Suspicions**

By the time the two teenagers had managed to plot what they intended to do, Belinda was standing at the front of the building and trying to get close enough to hear what they were saying.

When they spotted her and took off once again, she groaned as the realization hit that her gig was up. They were now wise to her actions and there was no way for her to continue eavesdropping on them. She eventually gave up trying to get close enough to hear them, but managed to follow them into the building. As soon as she had entered, she could see that it was filled with large boxes, which were stacked clear up to the ceiling.

Even if she had wanted to, there was no way for her to climb up on top of them and get a bird's eye view of the area.

To Belinda, it felt remotely like walking through a labyrinth, and instead of seeing green vines, she was taking in countless numbers of boxes and crates. She had initially figured that Charlie and his friend were going to be easy to find, but nothing prepared her for what she would discover upon entering the building.

Deep down inside, she hoped that Charlie had not seen her, but there was no denying the fact that he actually did. Strange that a teenage boy could get spooked to such an extent, but that was what had happened, and Willy Wonka's apprentice had reacted to her presence as though she was the grim reaper.

Although she did not expect the boy to welcome her with open arms, she most certainly did not count on that reaction either. Now, for whatever reason, she was almost certain that he would be able to lead her straight into the factory, but if he did, then it would no doubt have to be when he was unaware of her presence. Of course, that had not been the way things played out on that particular day.

What she did not expect, however, was to be led straight into a maze and away from the door that Charlie was intending on using to insure getting inside the factory.

She suddenly stopped moving when she saw someone running ahead of her. The person in question was dressed in a red sweater, thus making Belinda conclude that Charlie Bucket was nearby and that she would, perhaps, be able to catch up with him.

Wordlessly, she began to follow the figure through one of the many passageways. This led her further into the labyrinth as well as away from the door that would lead Charlie inside.

As she made her way around the boxes, she discovered that with everything looking the same, that she was getting completely turned around. This path did not lead into the Wonka factory, and for the most part, it seemed as though the teenagers were both just playing a cruel game with her.

Instead of continuing to contemplate this, she turned and noticed that in the distance, the figure in red had disappeared around yet another corner.

Belinda took a deep inhalation of breath when she suddenly heard the sound of a box falling in the middle of the path she was now on. It had collapsed down from atop one of the many stacks, thus barring her way. Instead of continuing as she was going, she was forced to turn around and start back in the direction, which she had come.

Seconds later, the resounding echo of a door slamming, made her stop as she reached the end of the row as saw a patch of whitish colored light in the distance. She was nearly back where she started and standing in front of the door leading outside.

Perhaps the person doing this was not even the teenage boy, instead, it was the girl trying to trick her.

Reaching the door, she opened it and peered outside. Instead of seeing the boy, she saw the long straight hair of the girl wafting about in the wind. This affirmed to her the horrible truth. The two kids had switched their sweaters and Charlie was still inside, the door that had closed perhaps indicating that he made it safely into the factory.

They had tricked her. Of all the nerve.

When I get my hands on that brat, I'm going to teach her not to mess with me, Belinda thought bitterly as she stared at the door that led back into the abandoned building. I have to find my way to that door. I will not continue to let that girl trick me while Charlie is no doubt getting further and further away.

As the stalker's thoughts continued to whirl about, she made her way back through the confines of the abandoned building and instead of entering the labyrinth a second time, she began to walk in the opposite direction, all the while trying to remember the last place where she had actually seen the boy. Perhaps she would now be able to figure out where he had gone specifically after they had split up. Unfortunately, her only success was getting so turned around that she was unable to find much of anything.

At that moment, she remembered the direction of the door when it had abruptly slammed while she had been stuck in the labyrinth. This, if anything, brought a smile to her otherwise perturbed face.

She walked back in the direction of where the sound had originated, and within seconds she had managed to find a small, but nondescript, looking door. She smiled as she approached it and tried to press down on the lever. When nothing happened, she took a deep breath. "Damn, it's locked," she grumbled and started to back away from the door. There was no way that she would be able to get inside now.

Seconds later, she took another deep breath. This has to be the door into the factory, she thought to herself. I'm going to find out for certain if Willy Wonka and I have a future together. She began to grope around in her hair, but when she noticed that she did not even have a hair pin on her, she swore under her breath all the while knowing that she would not be able to pick the lock at all.

At that point, nothing else mattered. She would find her way into the factory if it was the last thing she did.

"Willy Wonka will be mine," she whispered under her breath as she backed away from it and turned around before walking back in the direction of the main building exit.

Once she had stepped outside, she started to walk in the direction of home.

En route, she decided to stop by the thrift store in the hopes that Tamara would be there and she could confront her once and for all about where she had spent the last two days.

* * *

Hudson's Thrift Store was in a building on the older side of town. Its pristine windows and neatly trimmed hedges gave off the impression that one had traveled back in time whenever coming across it. The building itself, however, boasted old wood and chipped paint.

For the life of her, Belinda could not figure out why this place held such intense fascination to her younger roommate. It was not all that, and used clothing was most certainly not her thing. She, herself, preferred the latest styles and felt that the clothes a person wore defined them to a 't'. Belinda also figured that if Tamara really wanted to impress a man, she would most definitely have to start with her bland looking wardrobe.

Of course, although she did not really knew her roommate all that well, she had come to discover that this was one of the few places that Tamara deeply loved. The dresses that she wore had all been bought there and she figured that the owner was more than just a business proprietor, but was perhaps one of Tamara's contacts.

Through that knowledge alone, she would, no doubt, be able to wrangle her roommate's exact whereabouts out of him.

She reached the shop and opened the door, the sounds of the bells chiming over her head as she came inside. Along one wall a long rack was placed, the men's clothing hanging from two different levels. Shirts at the higher level, pants at the lower. On one end, suits and ties were displayed. In the middle of the room, rounded hanging racks were placed where dresses, suits and pants hung. Belinda's gaze ultimately moved to the back of the shop where a glass encased counter extended from one wall to the other. At the far end, wooden saloon style doors were installed and she guessed that this was how the store owner was able to move about the shop in order to help his customers.

Casting a final look around, Belinda noticed that aside from the older man at the counter, the shop was, otherwise, empty. She walked over to where he stood behind the counter. His hair was a dark gray color with curls that domed his head. His head was lowered, a small silken scarf wrapped casually around his neck. His fingers were drumming carelessly against the counter, his head lowered as his soft breathy whispers were heard as she approached. A newspaper was spread out over the glass counter, and she noticed that his elbow was resting on top of it.

Belinda stared at him for several seconds wondering if he was going to get newsprint on his elbow.

Not caring, she cleared her throat and waited for Steven Hudson to raise his head. When he eventually did, her gaze met a pair of grayish blue eyes hidden by half-moon spectacles. Surrounding his eyes were wrinkles as well as a good natured smile. "Yes, can I help you?"

"I'm not sure if you can," Belinda began.

"Are you looking for some clothing of some kind?" He asked. "We do carry all sizes here."

"No, that's not it at all," she said. "I'm trying to find someone and thought they might have come in here."

"It would depend," he said. "Who is it you are looking for?"

"My roommate, Tamara Jenkins," she said. "I haven't seen her in several days, and I wasn't sure if she had stopped in here, or if she had gone back to Somerdale."

"Well, if truth were known, I haven't seen her since last weekend," he said openly as he closed the newspaper and regarded her. "If you happen to see her, though, maybe you can tell her we got a new shipment in two days ago and there are still quite a few things left in her size. As a courtesy, I always try and give her first dibs. Since she's so small, it's not hard to do."

Belinda took a deep breath as she cast yet another a disdainful look around the bright and cheerful shop. "Are you sure you haven't seen her?" She asked.

"No, I haven't, and that's not usually like her," he said honestly.

What caught Belinda attention, however, was not the response of the man, but instead the photograph that was on the bottom part of the newspaper that he had been reading. On the photo, sat a couple on a bench, the man's arm draped around the shoulder of a much shorter woman.

The caption below it read the following:

* * *

**Does love and chocolate really mix?**

_World famous chocolatier, Willy Wonka may hold the answer to that question in the palm of his hand. Sitting on a bench outside adjacent to the factory Monday evening, a man, sources identified is the reclusive confectioner is pictured with an unidentified female. It would seem that they are sharing something far more intimate than just a little bit of candy._

* * *

Belinda's face grew pale as she stared at the article. Instead of asking him to give her the newspaper, she snatched it up and began to read through it. As she did, the anger and fury filled her. "He can't do this to me," she whispered under her breath, pain and anguish filling the air.

"I beg your pardon?" Steven asked.

Instead of speaking or even responding to his question, she wadded up the paper. With it still held tightly in her fist, she stormed out of the shop.

As the door slammed behind her, she took a deep breath, her eyes filled with anger. How dare they do this to me? She internally fumed. Tamara knew that I was in love with Willy Wonka, and now it was just like her to go and throw herself at him.

To Belinda, it was all the proof that she needed.

When I get my hands on her, I'm going to kill her, she internally vowed.

Right at that moment, it was not just the realization that Willy Wonka had the nerve to cheat on her, but to do so with Tamara was just too much for her to bear. They may not know who that tramp was that was pictured with him, but she certainly knew.

If it was the last thing she ever did, Belinda Hutchinson swore that she would get even with her scheming roommate.


	23. Chapter 22: Scary Parallels

_Welcome to the latest installment of this story. A huge thanks to my reviewers and a huge thank you for the compliments on this story. I have to give a little background on myself in this chapter. Tamara's experiences with Neil mirror experiences I had during my early twenties, which made this chapter especially hard to write because of the reality of the relation between the characters. It is my belief that stalkers are not properly socialized individuals, and their abusive tendencies are learned or mirrored somewhere._

_Hoverbord, again, thanks for the comments. Glad you are enjoying the story and hope you continue to do so._

_Ya Ya, the things you caught in the last chapter were corrected and acknowledged in the notes. Thanks for letting me know that. Sometimes, I miss the m's and n's here, perhaps because they are next to each other on the keyboard. At any rate, they've been changed._

_Victory Starr, I hope that you didn't have a heart attack. That would be so not good, and I would be sitting here literally hanging on your story. Don't do that to me. Glad you enjoyed the latest chapter, it was fun to write. And Steven Hudson is a character who was inspired by one of my choir buddies. So, I am glad that you liked the chapter._

_Ajestice, If my writing style has changed, I only hope that it has improved. I haven't really noticed anything with it, but whatever works. As for the compliments, you know what you say about another is also in you, so here's to you, a great writer, and a good friend. Thanks bunches for your comments. They mean a lot._

_Enjoy the latest installment, and please review. They are very motivating. _

_Edited April 26, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 22: Scary Parallels**

During the time that Tamara was sleeping, Willy found himself seated next to her bed as opposed to working on his many inventions or candy making projects. He knew that if he had even tried to work, he would be too distracted to pay it any mind. All of his thoughts, concerns, and even contemplations were now centered on the young woman who slept before him.

He retrieved the book that had been on the floor and opened it. His eyes scanning the pages, but after several minutes had passed, he closed it once again and returned it to the nightstand.

To Willy, Tamara Jenkins was now haunting his mind.

Contrary to her light colored hair, looking at her somehow reminded him of a china doll, like the ones his aunt used to collect. Her eyes were closed, a trace of light purplish color, shadowing the lids as though she was wearing small traces of makeup. Although the signs of illness had, thankfully started to fade, her cheeks seemed to carry the typical red hue that those pale porcelain dolls always bore.

He inhaled slowly, his thoughts running about a mile a minute. She really is a very special lady; he thought to himself as he tried to divert his attention back to the book. Although he had read this work a good four or five times, he still felt himself too distracted to actually follow the storyline.

He leaned over in order to rest his wrist against her forehead, which was still warm. The fever was now on the verge of breaking, but her face was still lined with perspiration. Instead of remaining seated, he got to his feet, crossed the room, and went into to the bathroom in order to retrieve a small porcelain basin as well as a wash cloth.

Finding the necessary items, he filled the small tub with cool water and returned to the main room. As he reached the bed, he could see that she had stirred, her body shifting before it once more stilled.

He placed the small tub on the floor and reached down and dipped the cloth into the water before wringing it out. Leaning over, he placed it against her forehead, the coldness causing her to open her eyes. She immediately reached up and tried to shove it away.

"It's too cold," she whispered, her voice cracking.

With the back of one of his hands Willy began to stroke her cheek gently. With the other, he kept a firm hold on the cloth. "I know it is," he said softly. "You still have a fever and this generally does help."

She lowered her hand in resigned defeat. "Candy maker _and_ doctor?" She asked as the trace of a smile shadowed her face.

"No, the doctor title actually belongs to my father," he said softly. "Not to me."

"Maybe not, but I don't remember ever having someone take care of me when I was sick before."

"You haven't?" He asked. "Not even when you were a child?"

"That doesn't count," she said with an almost stubborn undertone in her voice. "The last time I got sick, I was alone. It was in Somerdale and it was while my parents were on holiday. Because it was a cold, Neil didn't want to come near me. He was afraid that I would 'contaminate' him."

"He doesn't sound like a very nice person to me," Willy said bluntly. "How ever did you get mixed up with someone like that?"

"He was in a night school seminar with me," Tamara said. "I was taking a class to learn how to do all those secretarial things. You know; shorthand, typing, brewing coffee, the whole ball of wax."

"Sounds monumentally dull to me," he mused.

She smiled slightly. "I guess to someone like you who has a really exciting job; it is."

"How did he end up taking a class to become a secretary?" He asked, his expression etched in confusion. "I don't wish to come across as some kind of chauvinist, but that's not generally a masculine trade."

"You're right, it's not. When I first met him, he claimed that he was needing the extra training skills for his job, but I think he was just there so that he could meet girls," she said, her words sounding somewhat bitter. "It's like the boys who take Home Economics in secondary school so they can have their pick of the girls in the class." She closed her eyes briefly as her words continued. "Whatever the case, the class really didn't do me any favors."

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"I went through six months of training, then soon after that I lost my job because of Neil. The strange thing is; when we started dating, it was nice and we had a lot of fun. That was when everything was perfect. In retrospect, it's the same sort of thing that happened with Belinda. I had believed that they were both good people, but that was nothing more than a façade. Their intentions were both somehow similar and I guess that's why I got so scared." As she spoke, she could feel that the tears were now stinging her eyes. "I guess it just goes to show that I'm really a lousy judge of character."

"You're not, Tamara," Willy said softly as he removed the wash cloth from her forehead and returned it to the small tub of water. "Don't blame yourself for what happened, you just have a good heart and a kind disposition. Those things are not character flaws." He took a deep breath. "So what happened that showed you Neil's true colors?"

"We were still dating soon after the seminars had ended, but things started to change between us. I was given the chance to meet his parents and he met mine. I found out specifically where it was that Neil got his horrible disposition, jealousy, and temperament from. His father was absolutely ghastly to his mother. In front of me, he would say stuff that degraded her and after a time, I started pondering if this man had actually hit his wife. The thing is, Neil always played off that he came from the most perfect family, but it wasn't perfect, it was laced in emotional abuse. After some time, I started to really notice that he, like his father, would say horrible things and make other people feel inferior."

"Did Neil ever hit you?" He asked.

Tamara shook her head. "No, but the emotional games he played with me were just as bad as being hit. Just before I broke up with him, I kept hoping that he would break up with me first. You know, find someone else and run off together. That didn't happen, and I didn't even care if he cheated on me at that point, I just wanted a reason for the relationship to be over."

"What happened that made you change your mind about him?" He asked.

"I got a letter from my grandmother warning me about him," she confessed. "Soon after that, I just came to the realization that I wanted out. This was not the life I wanted." At that moment, the tears escaped from beneath her eyes and she looked at him. "Now, I guess you know everything because I already told you about the nightmares," she paused. "It's strange, but I never really talked about this stuff to anyone."

"You didn't?" He asked. "Not even with your grandmother?"

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't because deep down inside, I was scared that it would get back to Neil. I really didn't know how he would react to it."

"So instead, you left home, and tried to start over," he said simply.

She nodded. "Yes, but I still feel like I'm someone's prey, and that, they're just waiting for me to step out into the open so they could open fire."

"Is this because of what I did?" He asked, the concern now laced in his words.

"No," she whispered. "It's not because of you."

"That's rather hard for me to believe right now," he said. "Tamara, is there anything else that I can do for you?"

"I don't think so," she whispered as a soft knock resonated throughout the room.

Instead of immediately getting to his feet, he looked down at her, his eyes seeking hers. "Will you be alright while I go take of that?" He asked.

"I think so," she whispered.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised softly as he patted her hand. He slowly got to his feet and made his way across the room towards the door.

* * *

As soon as Willy had opened the door, he smiled when he noticed that the person standing on the other side was Charlie.

The boy, instead of being dressed in the familiar red sweater that he wore on chilly days, was now dressed in a strange zipper jacket with a hood covering his dark blond hair. Instead of looking calm and collected, his apprentice looked as though he was about to jump out of his skin.

Willy took a deep breath and regarded the youth that stood before him. "Hello Charlie," he offered with a cordial smile.

"Hi," he said as he casually peered into the room. "How are you guys doing?"

"We're fine," Willy said as he took note of how Charlie's eyes seemed to be darting from the interior of the room, to him, and back again.

"Then maybe I should leave you alone," the teenager hedged. His voice now seemed rather indicative that he was trying to keep something from the chocolatier.

Knowing the young man's general motivations, Willy took a deep breath. "Charlie, if you don't mind my saying so, you look as though are quite a bit unnerved. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Charlie said, his voice about an octave higher than usual.

"I'll accept that as an adequate response, but you sound like you're going from tenor to soprano in the matter of seconds," Willy said bluntly. "Just tell me what is going on." He extended his hand and rested it on Charlie's shoulder. When he did not respond, the chocolatier stepped out into the hallway and silently closed the door behind him. "Just look at me and tell me that you're alright."

"That would depend on how you might define 'alright'," the teenager said honestly.

Willy watched as Charlie allowed his body to sink down to the ground, all the while being held up by the wall. Once the teenager was seated, he spoke. "What is it, Charlie."

"It's nothing really," he said with the same uncertainties laced in his words.

"It's not 'nothing'," Willy said. "You wouldn't look as though you had been chased by Frankenstein's monster if it was 'nothing'. You remember what Thoreau once said: 'True friendship can afford true knowledge. It does not depend on darkness and ignorance'. Just tell me. I am your friend, Charlie, and for what it's worth, we are both in this mess together."

"What makes you think that it has anything to do with what has been happening lately?" He asked.

"Easy, you have that look on your face that clearly gives it away," the chocolatier responded matter-of-factly.

"Oh alright," Charlie groaned. "After I left school this afternoon, I was on my way back to the factory. When I got to the front gate and was digging around looking for my keys, I heard this girl call my name. It was Meagan Richardson. She needed the assignment for Mr. Turkentide's chemistry class. After we got to talking, I noticed that the woman who was delivering the letters and packages was lurking about. Maybe, it's nothing and I'm just freaking out about it."

"Or maybe your senses are heightened because of the words in those letters," Willy said. "What happened after that?"

"Meagan and I started to notice that she was trying to follow us and we concluded that she, no doubt, wanted to find her way into the factory."

"Do you really think that was what she was doing?" The chocolatier asked.

"Yes," the boy nodded. "She was following us all over the place. Then Meagan helped me to devise a plan to ditch her. We sort of led her through the maze at that old abandoned building on the northern side of the factory complex," Charlie said. "I saw her coming into the building, but then after that, Meagan acted as a diversion so that I could get inside without having been followed. This is her sweatshirt, not mine. We traded them so that I could get away."

"Are you saying that Belinda Hutchinson is now resorting to following _you_ around?" Willy's face went a shade whiter as he felt his stomach unconsciously tightening.

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. Anyone who leaves the factory is going to have to be really careful, otherwise she might try to use them as a way to get inside," Charlie said as he looked at the candy maker intently.

"You never mentioned Meagan before," Willy said. "Why is that?"

"Probably because she's a new girl in school," Charlie explained. "She started about two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago?" Willy asked, his thoughts were, by this time, positively reeling. This was when the letters started coming. Instead of saying anything further, he simply took a deep breath and wrung his hands together.

"She has nothing to do with Belinda, Willy, she helped me to ditch her. Besides, she was pretty freaked out about all of this anyway. The thing is, she seemed to think that Belinda posed a greater danger to me than to her," Charlie said.

"Perhaps, but it seems to me that anyone who is even associated with me may very well be in trouble," Willy said. "We don't know how dangerous Belinda is, but if she's anything like the person Tamara described, we should proceed with caution."

"All I know is if Meagan hadn't have helped me out this afternoon then I don't know what would have happened."

Willy nodded. "So it would seem that we owe your friend a debt of gratitude."

"The thing is, she knows about us working together, but made it clear that she doesn't want anything from me. She even got mad when I assumed that she was out for something. She mentioned the factory in passing, but did not say anything about you," Charlie said. "Of course, that may have something to do with what has been happening with her family and stuff. She didn't get the assignment because she said that she had a lot on her mind."

"What's happening to her?" Willy asked curiously.

"Her cousin Portia is in the hospital and she had to have an operation today," Charlie explained.

Willy took a deep breath. "That does not sound nice at all."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, I just hope she'll be alright. I didn't see what happened with Meagan because I was trying to get inside. I told her I'd call her tonight and see if she got home alright." He started to stand back up as though intending on going down the hall to the suite where his family lived.

After several seconds, Willy started to walk back towards Tamara's door. He reached out and pressed down on the lever, but before he could enter the room, he turned around and faced his apprentice's retreating back. "Charlie?" The teenager stopped and turned around, but waited for him to speak. "Would you mind doing me a favor?"

"Anything," the teenager said openly as he regarded his mentor.

"Could you ask the cook to prepare some potato soup for Tamara for tonight?" Willy asked. "I think she needs something besides bullion and crackers."

"At this point, I'll do anything to get my mind off what happened today," Charlie said, but motioned towards the door. "Is she at least feeling any better? I heard that she got pretty sick right after you brought her here. Naibouli said that the Beige Room smelled like a dead snozzwanger after she was moved."

"She got very sick, but I gave her something that I think might have helped a little," Willy nodded. "She's been spending more time sleeping than awake, and that seems to help somewhat. I've been increasingly worried about her, though."

"But, Willy, you kidnapped her," Charlie whispered in hushed tones. "Didn't you?"

"Regrettably, I did," he said softly. "As you have probably realized, she's not the same person as the one who has been harassing me."

"Boy do I know?" Charlie muttered under his breath, but he listened as the chocolatier continued to speak.

"At any rate, on top of all that, if I didn't already feel badly, then the situation with Belinda trailing you would pretty much act as the whipped cream smeared on top of an already messy situation." Instead of elaborating, he cast a sideways glance back inside the room.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, you didn't know," Charlie said.

"Perhaps, but I still feel terrible about what I've done. It was so wrong, and my only excuse is…" His words trailed.

"…You were scared," the boy finished for him.

"Yes," the confectioner conceded. "That reminds me, I wanted to ask if you could bring something else to me."

"What?" Charlie asked.

"Would you go to the Shipping Room and get me a few Marshmallow Rounds?" Willy asked. "Tamara is quite fond of them and asked me for one when she was awake."

"Sure, no problem," the teenager said. "Anything else?"

"No, just ask Junojulo for them and he should not have any problems," he said.

Charlie nodded and started to make his way slowly back down the hallway.


	24. Chapter 23: The Marshmallow Round

_Welcome to the latest chapter of this story. I am really grateful to YaYa and Victory Starr for the reviews and letting me know, specifically how that last chapter shaped up. Some of the information is based on fact, so it was very important to me to know that it was realistic._

_This is probably the only chapter for this week as many students are contending with finals and I don't want to be responsible for distracting you from your studies. So in the coming weeks, I may go down to one posting of this per week, with the other story it's a posting every two weeks. With the third story, I may take a break and pick it up during the summer._

_Here's hoping that you enjoy this chapter, and please review. It's one of my favorite bits._

_Edited April 26, 2008._

* * *

**Chapter 23: The Marshmallow Round**

Just before Charlie had disappeared around the corner, the sounds of a soft feminine voice filled their ears. "Mr. Wonka?" The voice echoed out into the hallway and Charlie stopped when he heard his mentor's name being called.

"You should go back to her," the teenager said casually when he noticed that Willy had started to follow him. "I'll pass on the menu change to the cooks in the kitchen and be back as soon as I can with her candy."

"Thank you Charlie." As soon as the young man was gone, Willy returned to the room. As he entered, he closed the door behind him and in several quick strides, had reached her bedside. Taking a deep breath, he seated himself next to where she was lying. "I'm here, Tamara, but I thought you were going to try and go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep," she whispered. "I-I heard voices. W-who's here?"

"It was just Charlie, he came by to take a message to the guys in the kitchen, and he will be bringing your candy momentarily," he said. "Besides the Marshmallow Round, is there anything else I can get for you?"

"I'm thirsty," she said weakly. "Can I have a drink of water, please?"

"Of course, I'll be right back," he said as he left her side to go into the adjoining bathroom. Finding a glass on the rack over the sink, he filled it with the liquid before turning off the water. His thoughts were full as he contemplated what Charlie had said out in the corridor. After having heard Tamara speak of Neil, he began to wonder if she would be able to contend with a second person like him roaming the streets.

Sighing, he returned to her side and placed the glass on the bedside table. "Let me help you sit up," he said as he offered his hands to her.

Tamara accepted this, and managed to sit up. Once she was comfortably leaned up against the pillows, he handed her the glass. As soon as she managed to empty it, she attempted to return it to the bedside table.

Seeing this, the chocolatier reached over and took it gently out of her hands, his fingers lightly brushing against hers before withdrawing. Once he had placed it on the table, he spoke again. "Did you want some more?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you." She closed her eyes momentarily, but then opened them again. "Mr. Wonka?"

"Please, call me 'Willy'. It would seem to me that we passed beyond these silly formalities quite a while ago," he paused before his next question emerged. "Don't you think?"

"I guess," she mused as she extended her hand to him and was surprised when he captured it between both of his. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything pressing."

"No, you're not," he shook his head. "I don't want you worry about that. Just concentrate on getting better. After all, even if I were to be somewhere else in the factory, my mind would probably be back here with you. I took some time off to be here and there's no place I'd rather be right now."

"That makes me feel a little bit better," she admitted.

"That's good," he said smiling as someone tapped lightly on the door. "That must be Charlie with your requested candy. Excuse me for a moment."

She nodded as she felt him releasing her hand and returning to the door.

* * *

As Tamara watched his actions at the door, she could not get over how kind he was. It was true that he had reacted to her negatively two nights before, but somehow, in the wake of everything that had happened, she could understand his fears. Now that he knew the truth about her, he was behaving as a perfect gentleman would.

In fact, Willy Wonka was exactly the type of person that Bill had often described at the shop, thus making her wonder if the two of them knew one another better than they had let on. Both men were kind, compassionate, and conscientious, but there was something more to Willy that she could not simply dismiss. Of course, she was grateful that the chocolatier was behaving more like a friend and less like an enemy. At the same time, there was something else that left her to wonder if he was far more than just the presence of a friend.

At that moment, it had become blatantly clear to her why it was Belinda had somehow become so dangerously infatuated with him. He was truly an extraordinary person. His creative genius seemed to emanate all around them, and as much fear as he had instilled in her initially, he was now offering her the contrary.

What's happening to me? She asked herself. Yet, despite her best efforts, Tamara Jenkins was smiling when Willy turned away from the door and started to make his way back over towards where she lay. In his hand, he carried four of the Marshmallow Round bars that she loved the most. It was strange; the candy was not what made her smile. In fact, deep down inside, she realized that it was his presence that evoked that emotion.

The young woman watched as he slowly lowered himself back onto the chair and pressed one of the packages into her hand. The other three, he placed on the bedside table. "You must really love this candy," he mused as he noticed the slight smile that curved up the corners of her lips. "I have never met someone who smiled at the mere sight of a candy bar."

"It's the best kind," she said softly as she carefully unwrapped it. "Every time I eat something that you've made, I realize how loving and caring you are towards the rest of the world."

"How do you figure that?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"It always tastes so perfect," she said. Instead of elaborating on this, she broke off a piece of the confection and stuck it in her mouth. Closing her eyes, she allowed the chocolate to melt on her tongue.

"I don't know if what I do is necessarily perfect, but thank you," he smiled. "You flatter me, and I really don't think I deserve it."

"But you do," Tamara said as she took another bite of the candy, a look of pleasure filling her and she sighed contentedly.

He reached over and broke off a piece of the candy and looked down at it before putting it into his mouth. Instead of speaking, he closed his eyes. What he did not expect was for a stray tear to stream down over his cheek as he swallowed the bite of candy.

Seconds later, he opened his eyes when he felt someone's hand against his face. "You really feel bad about what happened, don't you?"

He nodded. "I have to make it up to you. I don't know what I should do, but you see, my conscience will not let me do otherwise."

"Why don't you just ignore it?" She asked curiously.

He shook his head. "Perhaps some people would, but I'd prefer to do the right thing."

"Did you really mean what you said earlier about letting me stay here for a time?" She asked shyly.

"Yes, that is if you would have no objections," he said.

She smiled, but shook her head. "I don't, but maybe you could show me around a little bit. I don't mean the secret stuff…" her voice trailed, but before he could respond, she continued. "…There must be places here that aren't secret."

He nodded, his next words emerging without so much as a hesitation. "Of course there are, and I'd be more than happy to show you. That is, when you are healthy again."

"You know, I actually told Belinda that she could show you her loyalty by buying your candy," she said as she brushed her hand over the opened wrapper. "That's what I've always done."

"It's deeply appreciated, Tamara," he said.

"Willy?" She spoke his name for the first time.

He smiled upon hearing her say his name, but instead of speaking of this, he merely waited for her to continue.

"What are we going to do about Belinda?" She asked.

"We?" He looked at her, his eyebrows suddenly arching.

"Of course 'we'. You don't think I'm going to let her continue this game, do you?" She asked as she broke off another piece of the candy and stuck it in her mouth. "After everything I've been through, do you honestly think that this behavior is something I'm going to condone? If you really think that I would, then you're a far cry more bizarre than the person that Bill told me about."

"Bill? I don't recall you mentioning a Bill," Willy said. "Is he your current boyfriend?"

"Oh yuck, no, he's my boss and he's married. I work at his shop selling candy in the middle of town. It's such a charming little candy store. But, he's also a really good friend…" her words faded as her memories washed over her. "Was I supposed to be at work today? Or did he give me the day off? I don't even remember what day it is…" She looked at Willy, alarm now washing over her face.

"Today is Thursday," he said.

"Then I have to be there tomorrow," she managed to speak as she quickly tossed the blankets aside and started to crawl out of bed. What she did not expect was for her head to begin to spin and she practically collapsed against him. "I have to be there tomorrow, I gave him my word."

Willy took a deep breath. "Just try and calm down. I'll find his number in a little while and we can call him and explain what happened." Of course, he already knows, the chocolatier silently added, but at this moment, he knew that his words were only emerging as a means to pacify her.

Rather than immediately speaking, he helped her to lie back against the pillows. "I don't want him to worry needlessly about you or think you are not dependable. Since this is my fault, I'll do whatever I must to rectify it. You simply need to concentrate all your energy on getting better."

Tamara nodded. "That's not exactly easy. I have so many scary thoughts and things going through my mind."

"This whole thing has really hurt you, hasn't it?" He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, the candy momentarily forgotten. "I guess."

"I really didn't expect you to offer your help after everything I put you through," he said honestly. "I figured that you would recover from this and then go back and tell Belinda exactly what happened here."

Tamara shook her head as shock washed over her. "I could never do that to you. After all, what really happened? You made a mistake and I forgave you for it. Look, I know that you'll never get through what this is doing to you if you can't think with reason about it."

"Maybe but it seems to me that you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for being," he said. "You speak so wisely, but yet you show signs of being quite fragile yourself."

"You said it. I am weak," she nodded sadly.

"No, you're not weak, but you have been through more emotional challenges than anyone could possibly imagine," he said. "Robert Lewis Stevenson once said 'you cannot run away from a weakness, you must sometimes fight it out or perish. And if that be so, why not now, and where you stand?' It is quite a wise idea, don't you think?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I only know that you've helped me to be strong when you listened."

"I'm glad that I could at least do that, but it seems you are just as capable of overcoming these painful things as I am." As if to emphasize his point, he broke off a piece of the candy she held and stuck it in his mouth. "Maybe what really needed to happen was simply our meeting one another. Together we're much stronger than both Neil and Belinda."

"Maybe," she whispered as she followed his action and broke off a piece of candy as well. She said nothing further.

Instead, she allowed the thought of staying at the factory with Willy Wonka to play about in her mind. At that moment it was clear that this was a far more appealing option than anything else that she could have surmised.


	25. Chapter 24: A Woman Scorned

_Welcome to the next installment of this story. I hope that all of you had a good week, and for those of you taking tests for school / college / university, good luck to you. I hope that the tests go well and that you will soon be back here for more entertaining things than exams._

_To my reviewers, thanks so much for your comments. Here's hoping that this chapter will live up to the suspense part of this story. It was a very hard chapter to write, because it is about someone who is basically nuttier than an three year old fruitcake. Oh and Ajestice, I am not doing my diet any favors here either. YaYa, sorry that the updates aren't much faster. If I got more reviews, I might actually be faster with this...motivation, you know, but maybe when the tests are over, our student friends can jump back into the fray.  
_

_At any rate, enjoy, and let me know if this chick gives you as big a quiver in your liver as she gives to me. Intense creepiness going on here so be forwarned. Of course, try and hang in there, folks, there's a lot more to come on this, but life can't all be Marshmallow Rounds and fluffiness...even if it would be nice for the characters.  
_

_Have a great weekend, and please review._

* * *

**Chapter 24: A Woman Scorned**

On the other side of town, Belinda had arrived at home, a crumpled up newspaper held tightly in her fist as she stormed into the apartment and threw the door closed behind her. How dare she? The thoughts were now going about a mile a minute and filled with more animosity than anyone could imagine. The next time I see her God should have mercy on her soul.

As she walked into the dining room and saw the remnants of her project scattered across the table, she threw the newspapers she had accumulated on top of the other items. Her eyes narrowed as she walked out of the room, down the hall, and into her bedroom.

The room was neatly decorated, thus depicting her career choice. In the far corner, she approached a small, antique cabinet that was situated beneath the windowsill. Getting on her knees, she opened the cabinet and pulled out a wooden box. It was soft and smooth to the touch, a small padlock keeping the contents of it hidden from the world.

Digging in her pocket, she extracted a small key and grasping the padlock, she stuck it in and turned it until it clicked. Removing the silver lock, she lifted the lid and inside, it revealed a gun. The weapon was registered in her name but had been given to her by her father. It now lay in that special spot; the side of it a shiny black color as well as an intimidating essence. She picked it up and held it in her hand as a surge of power seemed to envelop her.

Although Belinda had never really used the gun away from the firing range, she liked the sensation that this object now gave her. Of course, taking out a target at about a hundred meter distance was a far cry different than using it on another human being. That particular idea now captured her with an almost eerie sort of fascination. She would get what she wanted, even if she had to resort to force.

She held the gun away from her body, but checked the hammer to see if it was loaded. It was empty, but she had always kept the bullets stashed in another part of the room.

Maybe I should just keep the gun on reserve, Belinda thought sadistically as she lowered the weapon and returned it to its place in the box. If I can get someone else to do the dirty work, then I wouldn't be left to clean up the mess afterwards and probably could avoid any trouble if something goes wrong. Besides, what did the press say about Willy Wonka's views on violence? It seemed so long ago when she had seen that particular article about the reclusive candy maker.

Seconds later, she began to dig through the cabinet. Soon she unearthed a small scrapbook filled with pictures and articles that she had collected over time about him. They were all over three years old and were tainted yellow with age. Of course, she would never get rid of them because they were filled with all sorts of small facts about him. One of the things that they said was that the confectioner totally loathed any form of violent behavior.

She cast one more wary glance towards the gun as she got to her feet and slowly walked out of the room. If it was needed, then I would have it, she thought as she returned to the dining room and began to take in the items that were still scattered across the table.

As she came closer, her eyes narrowed to catlike slits as she once again read the headline that graced the tabloid on top of the small stack.

* * *

'_Has Local Chocolatier Willy Wonka Found a Greater Love than Candy?'_

* * *

The headline swam in front of her eyes. As the hot tears of anger streamed down over her face, the words in the newspaper article somehow leaped out and struck her. A picture of the confectioner was below and to the right of the headline with a second photograph beneath the first one. The article was positioned to the left of the two pictures.

Belinda took a deep breath as she studied the top picture, which displayed the back of a curly headed man and a blonde headed woman seated together. It was Tamara, she concluded, it had to be. The couple was sitting on a bench and the large factory rose in front of them. It looked as though a paparazzi photographer had caught Tamara and Willy on film and their little rendezvous was now making headlines.

The second photograph was that of an easily identified Willy Wonka, taken some three years ago. His curly hair as well as his caramel colored top hot adorned the page. His blue eyes seemed to be shining as he greeted the Golden Ticket winners and other visitors to the factory. That particular picture had been published all over the world the following day.

It was on that particular day that Belinda became smitten by the reclusive chocolatier. Her eyes would always begin to shine each and every time she saw a picture of him in the paper or on television.

The truth was, despite everyone telling her that she should give up ever being able to ensnare him, she simply could not. There had to be a way for him to realize that they were perfectly matched.

To the love-struck woman, he was perfect in every way. He was tall, handsome, and lived in a self-created paradise. What was there not to love about that? Through all of this, it was for that reason that she had devised a plan that meant that she would win him over and make him fall head over heels in love with her.

In the thick of all of this, it seemed rather coincidental that Tamara had discovered her secret and disappeared just before this article had hit the newsstands. As she read through the article once again, she felt an intense rage filling her. Who else would it be? It seemed clear that Tamara was so insanely jealous of her that she would do anything, even sit down next to the man that Belinda loved.

As she stared out across the room, she could only conclude that Tamara had gone off to meet in secret with the confectioner. It had been plotted the whole time. Perhaps this meant that Tamara was only trying to get her to stop sending her love letters to him because she wanted him for herself. Maybe she was even in love with him and had actually managed to seduce him into a relationship with her. It suddenly became clear that Tamara's intentions for moving to this town were the same as hers had been.

Only one of them could win in this battle though and Belinda was bound and determined to emerge the victor at all costs.

As Belinda's twisted thoughts continued to rake havoc on her mind, her mouth twisted into an angry scowl and she found herself grabbing the article and wadding it into a tight ball in her fist. No names were mentioned in the article, but they did not have to be, the girl in the picture was not Belinda, and that served as an even greater blow.

She threw the wad of paper angrily against the wall as jealousy welled up in her abdomen and she took a deep breath. "That bitch!" she seethed, her anger filling the confines of the small apartment. "She thought that she was so bloody smart."

Instead of continuing to yell, she cast a glance down the hall in the direction of Tamara's bedroom.

Normally, the two women had agreed to not invade each other's private rooms, but as far as Belinda was concerned, this was before the other woman had gone and sunk her hooks into 'her man'. "It's only right," she reasoned with herself as she went down the hall and stormed into Tamara's room. "That was before she went and stole my William away from me!"

Once inside the room, she started to look around for some sort of clue that would further link her roommate to Willy Wonka. There was nothing in the room that really indicated that Tamara was romantically interested in anyone, but Belinda was far too infuriated to think rationally at this point.

Instead, she started to trash the room. The poster of the Sydney Opera House that hung on one wall was abruptly jerked down, the four tacks that kept the poster corners firmly affixed to the wall still remaining. She grabbed the flannel pajamas that were neatly folded on the bed and began to rip them into pieces. The pillow she ripped apart until feathers flew about the room like snow on a crisp December morning.

Next, she approached the small square shaped wooden shadow box that was bolted to the wall with two tiny screws. She remembered Tamara telling her that it was her prized possession and one that she had gotten from her grandparents several years before they had died. Without so much as a thought to the sentimental value that it held, she roughly pulled it down from the wall, figurines falling carelessly across the room as she hurled the object straight towards the vanity mirror that was just over the antique make-up table.

The mirror cracked in several places from impact as many slivers of glass abruptly covered the table as well as the now empty shadow box.

As an evil smile crossed her face, she continued to look around in search of anything and everything that she could find that would show her scheming roommate that she meant business.

Her gaze literally took in the rest of the room until she discovered a picture of her roommate and her family hanging above the head of the bed. This was in a simple silver frame, but the smiling faces of the two parents and four siblings was almost too much for Belinda to bear. To her, it felt as though Tamara was mocking her.

In a fit of rage, she grabbed the frame and threw it against the wall as hard as she could. As the glass shattered, she went over and fished it from the frame before starting a small stack on the bed for her next package.

She then began to dig through the small notebook that was next to the bed. It was a small journal covered in a red silk cover with gold writing on it: 'Deep Thoughts' was embossed across it. Ripping her way through it, she noticed that there was a picture of a tall man who looked to be about her age. His arm was draped possessively around Tamara's lithe frame, his chiseled mouth neither smiling nor frowning, but his eyes stared straight ahead as if to say that she belonged to him and everyone else should keep their hands off.

Despite herself, she began to read through some of the entries, all the while finding out that the man's name was Neil and that he lived in Somerdale. After further reading, she discovered that they had dated for close to a year before Tamara had broken up with him.

As her lips curved up into a sneer, she closed the book and tossed it on top of the picture. "This will show her," she muttered as she began to dig her way through the closets and the sounds of ripped clothing replaced the silence. Eventually, the shredded clothing came to rest on the floor, the closet practically emptied out. Hidden in the back of it, however, Tamara's small safe went undetected.

Finally, Belinda tried to get into the locked cabinet, but failing at that attempt, she ultimately had no choice but to give up.

The room was now pretty much destroyed, but it did not seem to abate her anger.

As a self-satisfied leer covered her face, she returned to the vanity table. Picking up a small piece of glass, she retrieved the items on the bed, before slinking out of the room.


	26. Chapter 25: The Meeting of the Minds

_Hello and welcome to the next chapter of this story. I managed to get the chapter done much quicker than I anticipated, so I'm going to go ahead and post this next chapter. I have read through it several times, but will do a final read through tonight for my husband who is also following this sorted tale. What support!_

_At any rate, I may or may not add some corrections to it, but this is pretty much it. It's still in the creepiness / heebie geebie section, so bear with it._

_To my reviewers, thanks so much for giving me your thoughts on this._

_YaYa, Tamara and Willy will be back in the next chapters, so you'll get to wait a tiny bit before they return to the story._

_Ajestice, glad you like, and yes, I am glad that I don't have exams…although I will be taking a German language test perhaps by the end of the year, so I will have to get back into that swing of things eventually. But, will have to see what comes of that. I hope you enjoy some more creepiness._

_Hoverbord, thanks for coming back and yes, she is crazy. I had to put every possible bit of weirdness into this particular antagonist._

_Please keep me posted on how this is shaping up. I had to watch a lot of weird movies to get some of the ideas for Belinda, but they seem to work. Hopefully she's just as 3-D as Tamara and my created protagonists._

_Enjoy and happy reading. Several typos found and corrected, April 29, 2008.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Meeting of the Minds**

Once Belinda was out in the living room, she tossed the items carelessly on the sofa before going into the dining room and picking up the newspaper clipping. With a concentrated hand, she raked the piece of glass over the back of her hand and made a small incision in the skin.

Turning her hand over, she allowed several drops of blood to fall onto the picture of the couple on the bench. If he doesn't get the message in this way, then nothing will make it clear, she thought with vengeance as she went to the bathroom in order to retrieve a bandage.

Returning to the dining room, she began to toss items into the box. The first to go in were countless photocopied pictures of Willy with 'x' marks conveniently covering his shining blue eyes.

Without so much as a word, she went over to the stove, turned it on, and dropped several of the Wonka bars she had bought earlier that day into the pan. She watched as they melted into a disfigured form before cutting the heat.

By this time, a strange and pungent odor had settled over the room. The wrapping papers had, contrary to the heat being cut, began to burn, thus setting off the smoke detector. As the shrill peeping sounds began to fill her ears, she moved the pan from the burner and reached for a large cookie sheet as the doorbell chimed.

When the beeping did eventually stop, she tossed the object across the room and listened as it hit the wall. She then moved the pan into the refrigerator so that the bars could once more solidify.

As the doorbell chimed once again, she went over and opened it.

There, standing on the other side was one of the neighbors, the elderly lady's gaze seeking hers. "Is everything okay, dear? I heard your smoke alarm going off and wanted to see if you were alright." She spoke, her voice emerging somewhat higher in pitch.

"Yes, I'm fine, I just burnt something is all," Belinda said, but internally she was still swearing about having someone disrupt her. This old lady should just go away, she thought bitterly.

"Alright then," the woman conceded and soon left Belinda standing and staring out into a deserted hallway. Well, at least she's gone, she thought as she closed the door and returned her attention to her project.

As soon as she reached the box, a sly smirk spread across her face as she dumped the usual Marshmallow Round wrappers into the box, atop the pictures of Willy.

She then went over to the sofa and collected objects from her roommate's room. Returning to the table, an idea suddenly hit her and she retreated back down the hall. Opening the door, she regarded the inner recesses of the destroyed room. Wordlessly, she collected some of the items from off the floor. One of them was a small figure from the shadow box. Stepping on it, Belinda heard the crunch of plastic beneath her shoe and raised her foot.

Leaning over, she picked it up and smiled as the crunched basket of flowers looked about as disfigured as the candy bars after having been heated up. She returned to the dining room and callously tossed the figure and the shredded items into the box.

At last, she reached for the picture of Tamara's family. Instead of taking pity on the sentimental value that these items held, she grabbed a pen and drew the letter 'x' over Tamara's eyes and drew a big frowning face over her mouth. She then grabbed the journal and ripped out the page with the photograph of her and her ex-boyfriend. Once she had his name, it would not take too long for her to find his phone number.

As soon as she realized that his name was Neil Kirkwood, she smiled as she scribbled that down on one of the candy wrappers before tossing the journal across the room. It landed on the sofa and flipped open to where the page had been ripped out.

This should be a piece of cake for me to find him, Belinda thought as she read through the pages of the journal and discovered that Neil was passionately in love with Tamara. It's perfect, she thought. Perhaps I will not have to use the gun after all.

* * *

The hour passed slowly as she finished adding various odds and ends to her package, the photograph of the man still sitting on the table awaiting her attention. First, I have to find him though, she thought.

As she closely evaluated her work and with a nod of her head, she went over to the refrigerator to check and see if the three disfigured Wonka bars had actually taken some sort of form. Finding that they had not, she closed the door and went back into the living room and grabbed the piece of paper with Neil's name scrawled across it.

Reaching for the phone, she picked it up and dialed the number to directory assistance. When the line was picked up, she spoke. "Hello? Yes, I need the number for Neil Kirkwood in Somerdale."

Seconds later, she held the number in her hand and a smile now lined Belinda's, otherwise disturbed, face. She took a deep breath and once again reached for the telephone and began to dial the number. She waited for several rings until it was picked up.

This would show her, she thought angrily, and it would show Willy Wonka as well that she meant business. Neither of them will come out of this chaos without at least knowing how it felt to be ridiculed and rejected like an old shoe.

"Hello?" The voice at the other end of the line emerged, thus breaking her out of her reverie.

"Is this Neil Kirkwood?" She asked, her voice concocted into a soft purr.

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Are you, by chance, dating someone named Tamara Jenkins?" She asked innocently.

"I have," he said, his voice sounding remotely interested. "You got any idea where that slut is?"

"Oh, are you're angry with her?" Belinda asked sweetly. This was too good to be true. Her thoughts shifted back to the gun that was in her room. If she could get Neil to do something against Tamara, then she would not have to get her hands dirty, and the chocolatier would not have to see the woman of his dreams behaving in such a violent manner. This could not have been anymore perfect. She could just leave everything in Neil's capable hands.

"Who is this?" Neil demanded. "Are you a friend of hers."

"She's no friend of mine," Belinda said adamantly. "Sure, she pretended to be a good friend for a while when we first met, but then she turned around and knifed me in the back," she paused dramatically as she continued to run the phone cord between her fingers. "I thought that maybe I could help you find her and in return you would be doing me a huge favor."

"Do you a favor?" He asked. "Lady, I don't even know you, why would I stick my neck out for you?" What's in it for me?"

"Tamara, I think she still holds the torch for you, sweetheart, and I'm sure that she would more than happy to see you again," she purred as she picked up the journal. "After all, she's got page after page of private thoughts about you in her diary, and I am sitting here and holding it in my hand as we speak."

"Who is this?" He asked.

Instead of responding to his words, she took a deep breath. "Do you know where Tamara is right now?"

"I have no idea, but I've been trying to find her so that we could…uh…talk," he said gruffly. "Something tells me that you do know where she is."

"I might, and I would be willing to tell you if you agree to help me," Belinda said challengingly.

"What's in this for you? Something tells me that you're just pissed off at her for some reason," he said. "I know about women, you stick together tighter than glue until you've been crossed. What gives?"

"I heard that she's been screwing around with my fiancé and I want someone to help me put her in her place," Belinda said as she cast a glance over towards the parcel.

Neil chortled. "Where are you calling from?"

"Portsmouth," she purred.

"Is this a trick?" He asked.

"No, lover-boy, it's no trick, I can even tell you that she works at Bill's Candy Shop in the marketplace here and I know her address. I could also tell you everything I know about her, because we're roomies," she said sarcastically. "Maybe when you drive here, you should take the time to buy the latest copy of the 'Portsmouth-Town Herald'."

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, let's just say that a picture is worth a thousand words and leave it at that," she said.

"OK, I'll drive there tomorrow first thing," he said. "Tell me where you are."

Belinda gave him her address, but took a deep breath. "Just stop by when you get here, and you'll know that I'm telling the truth," she said and hung up without so much as another word. If Neil really wanted to find Tamara, then he would, all he would have to do is buy a newspaper and put two and two together.

Even a guy who seemed as dumb as a bag of bricks like him could do that, Belinda thought as she went over to the table. With a pen, she scrawled a note across the top and bottom of the journal page before stuffing it into the parcel. The last thing that went in was the disfigured chocolate from the refrigerator.

There was no time like the present to take it to the factory and deliver it, she thought. Grabbing her coat and with the parcel still in her hand, she went over to the door and stepped out into the hallway before closing and locking the door behind her.

* * *

Out on the street, Belinda walked, the parcel tucked firmly beneath her arm. Dusk had fallen on the town and a determined frown now lined the woman's face as she walked away from the apartment building.

Tapping her fingertips against the side of the package, she strolled along, all the while noticing that the sky was starting to take on a dark purplish hue. The color somehow gave off a soothing sensation for her. It was on evenings such as this where people generally fell in love.

With her free hand, she lightly touched the parcel that she carried, the box somehow light, contrary to the several kilograms that made up the weight of it.

The distance from her apartment to the factory was not too far, in fact, in such a small town, just about every person who resided there could have reached the factory grounds within twenty minutes time. She smiled as the smokestacks seemed to drift closer and closer to her, the illuminated name somehow beckoning her to come even closer.

As she walked, she watched as a man and his son approached the gate, the child's hand reaching out and touching the steel iron bars that extended parallel to where he stood.

Belinda internally groaned. She hated coming to the factory when there were other people around. The man was pointing to one of the smokestacks as she reached where they stood, but remained concealed in the shadows.

"What does that say, Peter?" The man asked.

"It says 'Wonka'," the boy said. "Double you, oh, en, kay, ay." He looked up at the man accompanying him. "Right, Uncle Ted?"

"Very good," the man said with a proud nod as he turned around and offered Belinda a cordial smile. Noting the package in her hands, he spoke. "Are you looking for the post office, young lady?" He asked. "It's on Harrisburg Way, about three blocks over from here."

"I know where it is," Belinda said, "but that's not where I'm going." Instead of speaking further, she started to walk away from them. There was no way that she would be able to leave the package at the gate with this man and his 'spelling bee' nephew standing around gawking at it. She rounded a corner going in the exact same direction that she had used when following Charlie and the girl earlier that day.

As she arrived at the entrance leading into the abandoned building, she reached for the door with the intention of opening it. After several seconds, she managed to pull it open and stepped into the darkened building.

The door fell closed behind her, but not noticing this, she stared straight ahead. Standing before her was what looked to be a man, his face dark in color, his hair in a strange sort of bob-like hairdo. She could not make out too much about him besides the whites of his eyes as they stared down at her.

"How did you get in here?" The man demanded, his voice filled with a strange mix of anger and curiosity. It sounded as though he was much shorter than even the teenage boy she had seen earlier, but his voice was still much more mature than that of an adolescent.

Belinda backed away all the while, trying to stay concealed in the shadows. Contrary to that, she could still see that he had put his hands on his hips and was regarding her. From the looks of things, he seemed to be on top of one of the large boxes and was looking down at her like a cat making ready to pounce.

Instead of speaking, she allowed the parcel she carried to slip from between her fingers and land on the ground. Backing away from where he was standing, she fled out of the building, the box completely forgotten.

The last thought she had as the door closed behind her was the next time she would come to the factory, she would be armed.


	27. Chapter 26: Intuition and Intervention

_Hello everyone and welcome to the latest chapter of this story. Now that Victory Starr is back and caught up, I figure that I can go ahead and post the next installment to this. Things really have been happening in this story, and there's a lot more to come, but I am shifting you back to Tamara and how she's doing._

_Thanks so much to my reviewers. I am so grateful to all of you for sticking with this story, and am glad that you are enjoying this. It's a fun story to write, but it also takes a certain amount of energy out of me. The in-between viewing of Gene Wilder films has indeed been helping in the balance issue._

_Ajestice, I wanted to write Belinda as a piece of crap. Antagonists are such great things, they make it easy for the hero to be a hero, but you probably already know that. Thanks for the best wishes on the language test. I have no doubts about it, I just have to find the time to sign up for it._

_YaYa, so glad you're enjoying this. I really am grateful to you for all the reviews and support. It means a great deal to me._

_Hoverbord, again, thanks for tossing your two cents into the mixture and here's hoping you continue to enjoy._

_Victory Starr, welcome back to the fray. Glad you liked the two Belinda chapters, and hope that you continue to enjoy the Tamara chapters as well. Hope you enjoy this latest installment, and am glad to see you are back._

_Everyone, enjoy, and please review. It means a lot to me. Here's hoping that all of you continue to enjoy this story. _

_Happy reading._

* * *

**Chapter 26: Intuition and Intervention**

At the very same instant Belinda was having her encounter with Naibouli, Tamara wearily opened her eyes. She felt surprisingly better, specifically after having slept for much of the afternoon. She pulled the blankets aside, but not before taking a look down at her hands. The hives were now gone and her stomach no longer felt as though it had been tossed into a meat grinder.

Slowly, she managed to crawl out of bed, her first steps somewhat shaky as she cast a glance over towards the chair where Willy had been seated during their earlier conversations. There was an almost undeniable feeling of emptiness in the knowing that he was not there. He had no doubt gone to take care of things in and around the factory. After all, he could not spend every waking moment watching over her, not when he had a business to run.

She rubbed her hands over her face, and started to walk slowly across the room in the direction of the bathroom. As soon as she reached it, she entered and closed the door behind her. The first thing she did was look into the mirror that was just over the sink. As she stared bleary eyed into it, she realized that she was still quite tired.

Of course there was no denying that she did not want to spend any more time in bed. Although she did not feel up to leaving her fairy tale room, she did not want to sleep either. She took off the robe and noticed that on one of the shelves, a clean set of pajamas and fresh socks lay. Smiling, she discarded her robe as well as the beige shift and got into the shower. She looked around the small enclosure and spotted several shampoos, one of which had a distinctive flavor of lavender.

She picked it up and sniffed it, the floral scent filling her nose and making her smile. She turned on the water and began to shower, the lavender shampoo, she used to clean her, now unkempt, hair. I wonder if Willy likes this scent, she pondered as she rubbed the soapy substance through her hair.

What am I thinking? She asked herself as she began to rinse out the soap and used some more to clean her body. It felt so good as well as refreshing. The water soon washed away the remnants of sweat and perspiration.

Her thoughts unconsciously returned to Willy as she crawled her way out of the shower. He was such a gentle and kindhearted man.

She could not help but to remember when she had cried and how he had taken her in his arms. His touch makes me feel so good about myself, she thought as she dressed in the pajamas and then reached for the robe. I must be nuts, because he's famous and I'm just a mistake.

She rubbed her face in her hands as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. "Who am I kidding anyway?" She mumbled softly as she stared at the fogged up window and beheld her silhouette in it. Her hair was now wet, the shoulder length straight mass of blonde hair raking against her shoulders.

Instead of trying to contemplate what was going to happen next, she reached for a smaller towel and wound it through her hair before reaching for the socks and quickly pulling them onto her feet.

Out in the room, she could tell that it was much larger in size than the bland beige colored room where she had spent her first night in the factory. She looked down at herself and smiled at the fact that her skin was no longer affected by the allergic reaction. Her body was no longer itching, in fact, contrary to everything that had happened, she was feeling remarkably good.

After several seconds, the door to her room abruptly opened and she turned around to see that instead of Willy coming inside, a petite blonde headed woman was coming into the room. When her gaze met Tamara's, she stopped walking and offered a gentle smile.

"Hello, dear," the woman greeted her. "I'm Clara Bucket, welcome."

"Thank you, my name is Tamara Jenkins," she said as the older woman took her hand and offered it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. "Where's Willy?"

"He had some shipments that needed to be tended to, and he and Charlie are working on them right now. He asked me to come by and bring you to dinner. Since that is the case, I have several dresses that you might be able to use instead of having to roam about in the pajamas."

"That would be nice, but I'm not very hungry," Tamara admitted. "The thing is, ever since I got sick, I've been kind of scared of eating anything solid."

Charlie's mother nodded. "Yes, well I think we can still accommodate you. Willy figured on that as well, so he had Charlie ask the cook in the kitchen made some potato soup for you. It's very good soup, I am wont to say the best I've ever had. Even after three years, I am still trying to get the recipe from him, all to no avail."

Instead of responding to these words, Tamara went over and sat down on the sofa, her head bowed slightly as she tried to rub the tiredness out of her face.

Clara took a deep breath as she came over and rested her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You have nothing to worry about, Tamara."

"I'm not worried," she said, but it was more than clear that she was.

"I think you are, and from what Charlie has told me about you, I think that you do have adequate reason to feel a little bit apprehensive," she said. "Would you prefer if I bring the soup to you here?"

"If it wouldn't be any trouble," she managed.

"Of course it wouldn't, but I will be letting Willy know that you are still not ready to come to the dining room," she said.

"Thank you for understanding," Tamara responded with a nod.

Clara pointed across the room. "There's a shelf with some books if you would like to do some reading. Just help yourself." She then turned and saw the book on the nightstand. "It would seem that Willy has already helped himself to one of them, because Peter Pan is now next to your bed. Between you and me, I don't think he ever grows tired of that story."

"I read it when I was little, but it was really a long time ago," she said.

"Well, then I'll be off then, you just make yourself at home, and if you need anything, his office is down the hall and around the corner. You can't miss it, it's the only door completely covered with gold writing," Clara said, but before taking her leave, she looked at Tamara. "I hope that you do know that he really did not mean you any harm. From what I was able to understand, he was rather frightened. Now, it seems he has acquired the ability to feel much deeper than a lot of people do."

"I know," she said. "But, it's not really him that I'm afraid of. If I were to tell you the truth, then you might think me a weakling, Mrs. Bucket."

"Not at all," she responded. "I think you're a very strong young woman."

Tamara shook her head and looked down at the ground. "You don't know me very well then," she began. "The truth is I'm sort of in the same situation Willy is in. That's why I ran away from home."

"You mean, because you are being stalked as well?" Clara asked, but noting how Tamara was now looking away, she took a deep breath and continued. "Listen to me, there exists absolutely no reason for you to feel ashamed of this. You've not done anything wrong, but instead, have endured something rather traumatic. I would guess that you have noticed how it is always much easier for people to talk about an issue when they know internally that the other person understands what it is they are feeling."

She nodded. "Yes, and I did tell him about it. It was strange and very difficult, but I felt better afterwards. The thing is, I talked about things with him that I had never even spoken with my family about. It was strange, like I was speaking to someone who accepted me and didn't just offer me a shoulder to cry on."

"You have, through this experience, started to care for him, haven't you?" Clara asked wisely.

"Yes, and whenever I tried to talk to anyone else about Neil, I just felt ashamed of what had happened. It was as though I was the idiot for allowing myself to get carried away with feelings and emotions. I guess after I moved to this town, I started to think that maybe the only way I could handle everything that was happening was to just bury it deep down inside. If no one asked, then I wouldn't have to talk about it, but he…" her voice trailed.

"…He?" Clara probed gently.

"He did ask," she whispered, her words cracking with emotion. "It was as though he knew what I felt. God, it hurts so much, but then I cried, and he held me. No one else has ever really seen that part of me, and I was too afraid to share it with anyone. But, then afterwards, it felt as though he cared for me and it wasn't some kind or trick or pressure…It was…there…and it was…beautiful."

"He does care for you, Tamara," the older woman said with an affirming nod. "But, you know, perhaps you should let him know these things."

"I'm afraid to," she whispered. "What if he thinks I'm after something, or that I'm like my roommate? I don't want to do that to him."

"What about what it's doing to you?" Clara said. "Listen to me, dear. To love another person is the most beautiful, but at the same instant, scariest set of emotions that one could ever have to deal with."

"Love?" Tamara whispered.

"How do you feel when you hear the name Willy Wonka?" Clara asked, her voice soft and even.

Despite her misgivings about it, Tamara smiled.

"You see, now you're smiling," she reached over and touched Tamara's hand. "Try and remember this. Although Willy is famous, he is also human. He has the same flaws and imperfections as the rest of us do. Right now, he feels a deep-rooted regret about what has happened to you. Perhaps it may seem hard for you to believe, but it is the truth. On the outside, Willy Wonka may seem a bit extraordinary or even eccentric, but he has the same heart and soul of any good or generous man. Try and look beneath the mistakes and see the goodness that dwells."

Tamara nodded. "It's not just that. I mean; I know he's a good man, I just wonder if my liking him exists because of what I have heard mixed with what I have experienced. How does one find the courage to tell another person that they mean something to them?"

"Sometimes, it is the hardest thing in the world to do," she said. "But, when you can look inside of your heart and see something in another person that your eyes have missed, then maybe that's a good start."

"You mean, I should follow my heart?" She asked.

"Precisely," Clara nodded. "Just allow the things to happen as they will. Willy is not going to push you into anything you do not wish to be a part of. For what it is worth, I think you know what it is you feel, and his feelings seem rather obvious as well. After all, he has taken it upon himself to protect you from harm. Just consider that to be here means to be in a safe place."

She nodded, but watched as Clara slowly moved her hand from her shoulder and left the room. Once the door was closed, she walked over to the nightstand and picked up the book that rested there. She opened it to the first page and sat down on the bed.

During the next few minutes, she found herself getting engrossed in her reading until the door to her room once more opened. She lowered the book and raised her head to see that Clara was wheeling a small three level metal rack into the room. On the top was a large metallic bowl of soup with a lid. In the middle, was a bowl as well as a tea service with a cup and saucer. Milk, honey, and sugar were on the lowest level.

"Here you are, dear," Clara said cordially as she made her way back over towards the door. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Tamara whispered and watched as Charlie's mother left the room.

She walked over to the small rack and sat down at the table next to where it had been placed. Removing the lid, she breathed in the scent of the potato soup. Oh this smells positively wonderful, she thought as she grabbed the bowl and placed it on the table.

Using the ladle, she began to pour some soup into the bowl. Once she had managed to fill it, she looked down at the food that was in front of her. Reaching for a spoon, she put it into the bowl and scooped out some of the contents before tasting the soup.

It tasted just as perfect as if it had been one of the Wonka bars on the nightstand. She took another bite all the while surprised that the soup was neither too hot nor cold. The best thing about it was that it did not upset her stomach.


	28. Chapter 27: A Strange Rendezvous

_Hello and welcome to the next installment of this story. The parts are coming rather quickly, and I am hoping that I can still get the chapters posted to the other story I'm working on. Right now this one is for me important, as I have a second story in the works as a continuation of this after this story ends. No, it is not a sequel, it's just another plot bunny that I have that would continue where this one leaves off._

_At any rate, many thanks and kudos to my reviewers for sticking with me for the story. I know that I try and get some update or another up every few days now. But, I will probably be taking some time off in the coming weeks with the holidays that we have here._

_Victory Starr, yes I love potato soup too, that's why I picked that. Somehow that just seems the most perfect getting over being sick soup. I'm glad you like where this is going, I was hesitant about it, but as I said in the first posting there would be some romance, so it just seemed as though it would evolve itself to a little bit of romance, but also the suspense of that love, you caught me on._

_Ya Ya, yes, we'll be returning to Belinda, she's just the bad penny that keeps rolling back. But, I have to say of all the Wonka stories I have written, this one and In Another's Eyes really have villains in them. The other stories don't really have antagonists that I can sink my teeth into. So, this is really a lot of fun to write, but it also takes a lot out of me._

_Redneckqueen-93, thanks for jumping in and letting me know how this is shaping up. Your comments are appreciated. Here's hoping you continue to enjoy this._

_As always, please review. I really do read and reread my reviews. Sometimes I even get ideas from the things people say, so let me know what you think. It's always appreciated._

_Now, without any further ado, I present the sneakier side of Willy Wonka…is it possible? Well, with Wilder Wonka, it is. At least that's my interpretation._

* * *

**Chapter 27: A Strange Rendezvous**

After about five minutes, she retrieved the book and opened it once again. Every few moments she would take a spoonful of soup, eat it, and then read a few more lines. This continued until someone tapped lightly on the door and she heard the sound of a gentle voice calling her name.

"Yes?" She called out, but turned away from the table and watched as the door slowly opened. As she did, she smiled slightly when she saw that Willy was coming into the room.

The chocolatier was dressed in a emerald green colored jacket and the hat that adorned his head made him look much taller than he actually was. From where she was seated, he looked rather like a gentle giant. She smiled at the comparison, but instead raised her head as though staring at the heavens as he walked through the door and into the room.

He's so handsome, she thought for a fleeting moment, as he removed the hat and with flourish, placed it on the nearby stand. Closing the door, he turned away and started to walk over to where she was seated.

The first thing he did when he reached her was shove up the sleeve of his jacket and press his wrist against her forehead. After several seconds, he nodded and spoke, his voice soft. "Your fever is finally broken," he said with obvious relief.

"I feel a lot better," she said, but turned away, her attention once more on the food.

"Clara told me that you were taking dinner here tonight," he said as he raised the lid and peered into the silver container. "You've barely touched this, though."

"I hate eating alone," she confessed. "So, I started reading this book. I haven't read it in years, not since I was a kid, anyway."

He nodded as he seated himself at the table. "I started to read that earlier again while you were sleeping."

"I noticed the bookmark," she said. "I won't lose your place."

"It's alright if you do, I'm on page 37," he smiled but his attention shifted once more back to the soup. "Are you sure the soup is alright?"

"It's fine," she said softly. "It tastes wonderful."

"I'll pass those sentiments on to the cook," he said. "I'm afraid that I am not the one who is responsible for that piece of culinary expertise. I think it is perhaps best that I stick to desserts."

She nodded, but opted to change the subject. "I wanted to thank you for looking out for me today."

"I'm afraid, dear lady, that I did not do adequately enough," he said.

"I think you did," she said as she impulsively got to her feet and rounded the table so that she could embrace him. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around him before leaning in to kiss the smoothness of his cheek. Just before she was about to withdraw, he wrapped his arm around her and held her there for several seconds.

Without so much as a thought about what she was doing, Tamara allowed herself to completely relax in this gentle hold. The soothing scent of chocolate enveloped her as she realized how this man seemed to emanate the work that he did. Without thinking about what she was doing, she buried her nose against his jacket lapel and inhaled this soothing scent.

Willy smiled, her warmth literally filling him.

Seconds passed and she released a contented sigh. She then opened her eyes and allowed her fingers to lightly touch the bowtie that was bunched at his neck. "You know something?" She whispered, not moving out of his hold, but instead remaining where she was.

"What's that?" He murmured.

"If Belinda knew where I was at this moment, she'd have a fit," Tamara whispered as a slight shudder cursed through her.

Willy, noticing this, simply brushed a gentle hand through her hair, before allowing his fingers to brush lightly against one side of her face. "I'm not going to say a word," he promised, a small smirk touching his lips. "I don't think you have any intention of doing so either. Or have you changed your mind since then?" As these words emerged, his voice took on a teasing, almost flirtatious, tone.

"No, because I think there are some things that should be kept safe from the rest of the world. Besides, I do want to live to see my next birthday." She smiled weakly.

"You will," he said softly, his arms still wrapped securely around her. Seconds passed and their embrace loosened and she was able to return to her seat at the table.

After having eaten several more spoonfuls of the soup, she took a deep breath. "Willy?" She eventually whispered his name, thus causing him to turn and look at her.

"What is it, my dear?"

"You seem different tonight, more assertive and confident." She paused for several moments, but after the silence, her last word emerged. "Why?"

Instead of immediately responding, he stood up and this time went over to her. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. When he raised back up, he spoke. "I think that your being here gives me some semblance of courage, Tamara."

"Me?" She whispered. "Now I know you're kidding. You're the greatest confectioner, and I'm the world's biggest coward."

"No, there is truly nothing cowardly about you," he said as he walked over and picked up one of the Marshmallow Rounds from off the bedside table. Before he could return to her side, she had stood up, walked over, and seated herself on the sofa.

Willy followed suit, the candy still in his hand, but eventually he rested it on the arm of the sofa as he turned and looked at her. "You're not a coward," he repeated these words, the statement simple and concise. Mixed with that was an overwhelming element of caring. Despite her not wanting to flirt with her host, she found herself smiling as an overwhelming feeling of affection encased her.

She clasped her hands together and after several seconds, she shook her head. "I ran away from home because I was afraid to stand up to Neil and tell him to leave me alone. I would say that's pretty cowardly."

"Let me ask you something," he began. "Do you still love him?"

She shook her head. "I said I was a coward, Willy, not an idiot."

Willy smirked, but a soft chuckle emerged from between his lips. "I didn't mean anything by asking, Tamara, I was just curious. Sometimes the most painful things that can happen are done by those we care about. I was simply pondering if the things that you are feeling possibly stem from how you feel about him. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't," she said honestly. "It's just that I could never love Neil anymore than you could love Belinda. The thing is, I may not be very well versed in things like love or romance, but I do know that love is not something that should be forced onto another person."

Willy took a deep breath. "It's like this quotation that I heard once: 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails'." (_I Corinthians 13:4-8)_

Tamara closed her eyes as he finished speaking and she could feel the tears beginning to stream down over her face. "That's from the bible, and it was my confirmation passage when I was a kid," she said softly.

"It seems a very fitting one for you," he responded, but instead of elaborating on this, he took a deep breath before pulling her gently into his arms. After several seconds, he could feel her head coming to rest against his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, he could somehow tell that she was trying to block back the emotions in any way she could. After several seconds had passed, he spoke, his voice soft. "You really miss your family, don't you?"

She nodded sadly as the moisture continued to stream, at will, down over her cheeks.

Willy inhaled slowly, his thoughts literally whirling out of control. I didn't intend to say something that would make her cry, he thought. Now what can I say or do that might rectify this? He took a deep breath. "This may sound like a silly question, Tamara, but why don't just go back to visit them?" The words emerged, the softness of his voice only a mere fraction louder than his previous question had been.

"It's not silly, it's just that…I'm just too scared to go back. I know from the last time I spoke to my father that Neil has been seen lurking around their neighborhood. You called me 'brave', but I'm not. I don't even have the courage to go back and visit my family."

"Maybe you would find that courage if someone you knew were to go back with you and stand by you," he said.

"Why would anyone go and do something like that?" She asked. "Most people who know me, also know Neil and they would be just as afraid to cross him as I am."

"I don't and for what it's worth, I would," he said as he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and shook it out before reaching over to wipe her tears away. "Believe me, Tamara, to stay away from those you love is harder than facing all the hurtful people that exist in the world."

This simple action as well as his words made her turn and look at him. As her gaze met his, he continued speaking. "If you think that my presence might give you the courage that you would need to go back, then let me at least do that for you."

Tamara looked at him, the shock and surprise washing over her. "You really would do that for me? I-I mean, I never expected…" Her voice trailed, but after several moments of silence had passed between them, her next question emerged. "…Why?"

"Because it's important to you and you're worth it," he said.

She covered her mouth with her hand. "That would be wonderful," she eventually whispered, her voice laced with emotion. "Oh Willy, I could just kiss you."

"Well, if memory serves, you already did," he noted with a coy smirk. "But, you could always do the flipside."

Tamara watched as he pointed to his cheek, the smile never leaving his face. She closed her eyes and leaned over with the intention of kissing his other cheek.

What happened next took her completely by surprise.

Instead of letting her kiss his cheek, Willy suddenly turned his head so that her lips brushed against his.

When she felt this, her face flushed as she backed up and looked at him. "You tricked me…" her voice trailed as the butterflies in her stomach started going crazy. They both simply sat there looking at one another for several moments, but neither of them spoke.

Nor did they feel the inclination to repeat the kiss.

Several seconds passed as an indescribable shyness washed over her. She closed her eyes only to open them when she heard the chocolatier beginning to chuckle.

"I most certainly did trick you, didn't I?" He asked, but instead of his amusement being amusing, it emerged as though he was the epitome of a nervous teenager on a first date.

She nodded. "You did," she whispered as she lowered her head. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know, but I'd do it again," he said.

"You would?" She asked. "But, you don't really know me."

"I know you well enough," he said, and from somewhere his nervousness broke and he felt his honest words emerging. "We've had so much time to get to know each other and talk about everything that has happened. You know more about me than anyone else and you've been honest and open. I think that given these particular circumstances, we do know one another rather well."

Tamara lightly touched her lips, the redness of her face increasing. If someone had told her three days ago that she would have received a chaste kiss from Willy Wonka, she would never have believed them.

Yet here she sat, feeling happiness overwhelm her at having the chance to share some private moments with such a remarkable man as this. She would never have believed this was even possible, but yet it was happening.

She took a deep breath. "Willy, I like you too, a lot. Maybe my being here does make me realize that I am not so alone in all of this as I thought."

"Neither of us are alone anymore, Tamara. I promise we will get through this, together," he vowed quietly.

She looked into the depths of his blue eyes and nodded. There was no denying that what he had said had been the truth.

Yet, in the back of her mind, she could not let go of the possibility that contrary to her conscience and those terrified feelings, she was actually starting to fall in love with him. Now, for whatever reason, that kiss had somehow demonstrated that there existed something very special and profound happening between them.

It no longer felt as though the issue of stalking was the only common ground that they really shared.


	29. Chapter 28: Confessions

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment. I wasn't sure I was going to get this up as quickly as I did, but I am really grateful to my reviewers for their comments and it is really nice that I have a few new people reading. I hope you enjoy the latest part._

_Lysi Marie, so nice that you gave this a read through and enjoyed it. I hope that more people will do so. Although this deals with something serious, I do want to make it a good story and also have some entertaining value to it and not just the serious and darker topics. So thanks for giving it a go and I'm really glad you are enjoying it. I have enjoyed your story as well. Thanks for giving the other stories a read through as well, it means a lot._

_Ya Ya, I agree how can she not fall for him, he's such a sweet man. I so enjoy writing this, especially a wonderfully nice Willy character.  
_

_Victory Starr, glad to see you back. I don't want to give away too much, but I am presently writing some scenes with Neil, and he's not a nice person, but of course, Tamara has already indicated as much. Wait and see. _

_More to come, please let me know how this is going. I don't want to make this seem to rushed, but if truth were known, my husband and I fell in love very soon after meeting, so I'm sort of paralleling Willy's feelings with that of Mr. Yva J. _

_Happy reading. Sorry for the short chapter, but the next one will be longer, promise.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 28: Confessions**

When Willy opened his eyes the following morning, his alarm radio had gone off and the instrumental 'Pure Imagination' was ringing in his ears. The soft swells of guitar music instead of jarring him out of bed, gave him the opportunity to wake in a manner that did not seem reminiscent of shooting oneself out of a cannon at a starting gate.

He took a deep breath as he leaned over and pressed the 'snooze' button. The music, instead of shutting off simply went from louder to softer. He pulled the blankets further up and over his head, allowing himself those nine extra minutes of snooze time. He snuggled down against the pillow and breathed in the scent of vanilla. That was, after all, the flavor of his fabric softener. He actually switched between chocolate and vanilla, this week's flavor was vanilla.

He had finally slept through the night without having woken up from bad dreams or finding a reason to be afraid or on edge. Of course, maybe this dream catcher idea had actually worked. During the afternoon following Tamara's nightmare, he had placed one in her room thinking that perhaps it might render assistance. He had also hung one in his room the previous week as well. However, once the letters started arriving, he had been unable to sleep, so it was hard to ascertain if they worked or if it was just psychology.

At any rate, dream catcher or no, he now felt more invigorated than he had felt in what seemed like weeks. This was quite a novelty for him, as this was the first time he had actually slept soundly since Belinda had started her 'project'.

After the allotted time lapsed, the music became louder and the chocolatier groaned quietly as he ran his hands through his curly locks of hair. Reaching over, he shut off the alarm before sitting up in bed. As he did this, he glanced over towards the window.

An overcast sky met his wandering gaze.

Shoving the blankets aside, he crawled out of bed and started to make his way towards the bathroom. A small smile lined his face as he recalled the events of the night before and the kiss that he had managed to trick out of Tamara. He had indeed liked the feel of her lips against his, but he pondered if she was upset by his 'tricking' her like that. It was no question, he was afraid that he had unintentionally hurt her again.

His thoughts drifted back to the conversation that he had had with Charlie. The boy seemed to know and understand human nature rather well, yet now he was finding himself feeling drawn to Tamara.

Was he falling in love with her or was this just the result of too much chocolate intake? After all, chocolate was an aphrodisiac and did give people the feeling of being in love. Perhaps what contributed to those feelings was the fact that he had consumed more of his Marshmallow Round candy in the last two days than when he had tested the formula in the first place.

His thoughts shifted to the woman who was probably still sleeping in the Rainbow Light Room. It was no secret, he did like her, but he wondered if 'like' and 'love' were remotely the same. From what he understood about the emotion, he was simply not quite certain.

I would have to think about this more, he thought throughout the time he had showered. There was no question in his mind, her presence really did give him an element of strength that he desperately needed, especially right now.

Regardless of my feelings for her, he rationalized as he was getting dressed, I did swear to protect her and that is precisely what I intend to do.

His thoughts shifted back to the night before when they had sat in her room playing cards and talking. She had beat him at three rounds of 'rummy' while he had a consistent winning streak at 'go fish'. He had even taught her to say the two words in different languages, which had proven quite amusing for both of them.

Willy could not help but remember the moment just before he had said 'goodnight', when she had reassured him that she would be alright. As he was returning to his room, he was not quite certain if he should have left her alone at all.

His thoughts returned to the kiss and how it was one of the most precious moments that he could consciously recall. The feeling of her in his arms made him smile despite the fact that it had been a rather sneaky move on his part. Of course, she seemed to have taken his forwardness in silent acceptance. If he was not mistaken, despite her words, she seemed to have been flattered by the gesture.

Now dressed in more inconspicuous attire, Willy beheld his reflection in the mirror. He needed to wear something a bit less flashy than his usual style, because he was going to suggest to his guest that they go to her apartment and retrieve some of the things that she would be needing for an extended stay.

His attention was abruptly shifted to his hair. Usually after washing it, he would comb it down so that it would lay somewhat flat against his head. This time, he was going to use some of his hair cream. As he scooped a small amount of the substance, he ran it through his hair and watched as the curls relaxed against the side of his head. Hopefully no one will recognize me, he thought to himself, but the clothes and not going out with a cane and hat might do the trick. He returned to his cabinets and found himself a pair of shoes.

Putting them on and noting that he was ready, he cast a final glance in the mirror.

He then went over and opened the door. Closing it firmly behind him, he left and made his way down the hall and in the direction of the Rainbow Light Room.

* * *

About five minutes later, he arrived and tapped lightly on the door. When no one answered, he spoke her name. "Tamara?"

Seconds later, the door opened, but instead of seeing her, he was looking into Clara Bucket's blue eyes. "Good morning, Willy," she said smiling.

"Hello Clara, what are you doing here?" He asked, his confusion quite evident.

"Tamara needed a pair of shoes, so I brought her some. Unfortunately, the dress is a bit too big, but maybe it will only be an issue of length. You really should see about getting her something else to wear."

"Yes, of course," Willy said softly. "Where is she? Still asleep?"

"No, she's in the shower," the woman said. "She should be out in a few minutes. I can tell her that you're here."

"Thank you," he said but watched as Clara crossed the room and tapped lightly on the door.

"Tamara, Willy's here," she called out. "I'll see you later."

"OK, thank you for bringing the clothes," emerged from the bathroom as Clara started to take her leave.

As she passed by him, she reached out and touched his shoulder. "Is something wrong, Willy?"

"I don't know," he said softly. "Clara, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, what is it?" She asked.

Wordlessly, he cast a glance in the direction of the bathroom.

"You care for her, don't you?" Clara said, a slight smile crossing her face. For some reason, she could distinctly remember the very same conversation with Tamara the night before.

"I made many mistakes," he whispered.

"Well, it stands to reason, the last time I checked, Willy Wonka was just a fallible a human being as the rest of us," she smiled at him. "You learn from your mistakes, and love does not measure itself by mistakes, it just exists as it is."

"But I told Charlie that I wasn't ready for this," he said.

"Perhaps you weren't, but now you are," she smiled gently at him. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Listen to me, Willy; Charlie understands a lot more than you think. He knows that you've been afraid, and he's learning that his hero _and_ best friend is human. I can assure you that he's always known this, but sometimes part of admiring someone is the realization that they can sometimes make mistakes, or in the literary sense, fall off their white steed," she paused, all the while letting her words sink in.

When he said nothing, she continued. "Now, what you have to do is recognize whether or not love is truly in the cards for you." She reached down and as if to emphasize her point, she picked up the deck of cards that they had used the night before and placed them in his hands. "Follow your heart, Willy. You may discover that that young lady in there may feel the very same way you do. You have a tragic parallel with one another, you're both being stalked by people with very little understanding of what real love is. But, perhaps through it all, you have discovered that you do know how to care for another person."

"Charlie told you about that?" Willy asked.

"Yes he did, and you listen to me," she looked at him, her blue eyes meeting his. "Don't you ever do that to us again."

"Do what?" Willy asked.

"Refuse to tell us that something is bothering you because you're trying to protect us," she said, but her voice softened. "Willy, a family always holds to its own, and you are family to us." With a motherly hand, she reached over and brushed a lock of his hair out from in front of his face. "You're not alone, Willy Wonka, not anymore. You've had us with you for the last three years, and now you have Tamara."

Her hand moved until she was patting his shoulder. As it lowered, she started towards the door. "Peter Pan is still on the bedside table," she said gently before leaving the room.


	30. Chapter 29: Honest Declarations

_Hello and welcome to the calm before the storm. I don't want to give too much away, but this is perhaps one of the very few calm and soothing chapters that will come. Tamara's got lots more emotion to deal with, and Willy will have to reach some of his own conclusions about that as well._

_At any rate, not much to say except thanks to my reviewers who have been so nice with their comments. I hope that you continue to enjoy this, and hopefully this chapter will make you feel warm and fluffy inside, as that is the intent, but it's a part of the whole plot, so it's in._

_Hoverbord, glad you like Clara, I like her too, and her role is very maternal, which although Willy is not her son, she has helped to guide him a bit in this story. It's a nice feeling._

_Ya Ya, Yes, again, Clara is really wonderful, and I'm glad to give off that sort of feeling. I guess she sort of parallels Eliza in my other story, but she's a few years younger. I just like her role here a lot._

_Lysi Marie, It seems unanimous, Clara is good in the story. I'm glad I have her in a larger role. In the first drafts she was not around much, now I've got her as a player, and people seem to like her. Whew. At any rate, here's hoping that you continue to enjoy._

_Enjoy the chapter everyone, and please keep me posted on how this is shaping up. It's looking like I'm going to break 100 reviews with this story, which is a very nice feeling. At least I can feel assured that I'm doing something right with this. Hard to believe that this story started as a way for me to vent about some personal issues…Oh well, enjoy and don't forget that back in the Prologue's author's notes, there wil be romance, so here it comes._

_P__lease review._

* * *

**Chapter 29: Honest Declarations**

Willy walked over and picked up the book before crossing the room to the table and sitting down. Instead of opening the book, he sat motionless and stared down at the cover as the words somehow started swimming before his eyes. He raised his hands and felt that there was moisture beneath them.

"What's the matter with me?" He whispered under his breath, all the while not realizing that the bathroom door had opened and Tamara had emerged from its confines and had overheard him.

"Shall I reel off the list for you?" She asked playfully as he turned around.

The first thing he noticed was that she was walking through the room like a graceful wave as it touched the shoreline. The blue colored dress that Clara had brought seemed to touch his imagination and send it reeling into hazardous territory. She looked so beautiful and her cheeks had a new glow to them that made his heart skip a beat. Of course, because she was so petite, the hem of her dress practically went down to her feet and brushed against the floor.

"Hi Willy," she said, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Good morning, Starshine," he said before he could stop himself. Where in the world did that come from? He asked himself as he returned the book to the table before turning and walking over to her.

Reaching her, he extended his hand and discovered that she was reaching out to meet his halfway. As soon as he felt this, he exerted a gentle squeeze and released it as his blue eyes met her green ones.

"Did you know that my dad used to call me 'Starshine' when I was a little girl?" She asked softly.

"No, you never mentioned that," he said.

"It's kind of silly, but so was the other nickname he picked for me."

"Which is?"

"Tam-Tam."

"I think it's cute, but definitely not suitable for a grown woman." He nervously stuffed his hands in the pocket of his jacket and started to walk over towards the sofa and sit down, his energy somehow the exact depiction of a limp teabag.

Tamara watched him, but instead of commenting, she followed him over and sat down beside him, her eyes somehow looking everywhere but at him.

"How did you sleep?" He eventually asked.

"A lot better than when I was sick," she said as she glanced around the room. "It's really nice here and I noticed after I woke up this morning that there's a dream catcher hanging over the bed."

"That's so you won't have anymore nightmares," he smiled despite himself. "I put that over the bed after you fell asleep yesterday afternoon. I also have one in my room, too. The legend says that the dream catcher catches the bad dreams in the web but still allows the good ones to slip through so that they can come to you. It's a nice idea, isn't it?"

Tamara nodded, but after several moments, her gaze shifted away from the object to him. "Thank you, Willy."

"Whatever for?" He asked.

"For being so kind," she whispered. "Do you realize that if you hadn't have thought I was Belinda, that I would never have come to know what a wonderful person you are?"

"Does that mean that you're not angry with me anymore for my terrible behavior and just about poisoning you?" He asked.

"I guess it does," she said softly. "But, don't forget that I was the one who chose to actually eat that stuff."

"You wouldn't have done that if I hadn't have been so antagonistic about it," he said, his voice laced with sadness. "The truth is, I never expected you to be such a good and kind person. I suppose that's why I feel as though I must incessantly be apologizing to you."

"Why?" She asked.

Willy's expression shifted as he regarded her through agonized blue eyes. "Tamara, I hurt you, I made you sick, and I caused you to have nightmares," he said, his words breaking. "I kidnapped you for goodness sakes, and now on top of all that, I've gone and tricked you."

"Do you mean last night, when you told me that you were going to return to Somerdale with me?" She asked.

"Yes, but it wasn't that, it was when I became forward with you. I didn't even stop to think or even inquire whether or not you wanted to be kissed," he confessed. "I know that I shouldn't have done it, but I meant what I said, I would have done it again if you had no objections..."

Tamara took a deep breath as his voice trailed. She could instinctively tell that his guilt was literally destroying him. Seconds passed and she found the courage to lean over and touch his lips. As his puzzled gaze met hers, she spoke. "…You've got to stop doing this. I mean; you're making yourself crazy and you don't even have to."

"Tamara, I…"

Before he could properly object, she smiled weakly somehow misinterpreting the rationale behind his objection. "…OK, crazier."

"That wasn't what I was going to say."

"Maybe not, but I wish you would just stop thinking you're supposed to have all the answers. Just listen to me for once." As she spoke, she could feel the tears catching in her eyes, but she managed to blink them away. Moving her fingers from his lips, she rested her hand against the smooth contours of his face.

"I do listen to you, I've been doing _nothing_ but listening to you for the last few days," he said somewhat sternly.

Tamara's face fell, the words literally drenching her with truth. She knew he was right, and yet those words had slipped out before she could even stop them. She lowered her head. He _had_ listened, all the while taking in every word she had spoken and responding in a loving and compassionate manner.

This time overwhelming guilt washed over her. "I-I'm sorry," she whispered, but looked away as silence once more descended on them.

Willy took a deep breath and reached over and took her face in his hands as he had done the night before. "Just tell me what you want to say, I am listening."

For a moment, she bit down on her lip before releasing it so that she could speak. "I'm sorry," she repeated her apology. "I-I just didn't want you feel anymore guilt about this."

The chocolatier nodded as he brushed her tears away. "I only hope that I didn't hurt you last night."

"But, you didn't. I mean; I'm glad you did what you did. It was the best part of the whole evening, better than fish or rummy." Her confession out, she closed her eyes. "It seems kind of silly, like something that a bad actor might say in a third-rate film, but I'm not an actor, Willy. I can't pretend to be something that I'm not."

At that moment, she shyly moved away from him, their contact now broken.

Willy watched her, all the while knowing that he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and never let go. Instead of speaking, he looked down at her, his eyes trying to see through some sort of façade. What he soon realized was that he could not even do that because there was not even one present.

Of course, the questions still ravaged him. Was she saying that she liked him, not his candy or his fame, but _him_?

Suddenly, out of the blue the realization struck him; Tamara was being real. Regardless of the fact that it terrified her, she was conveying her true emotions to him. He could understand that given her experiences, she had far more to lose than he did. What sort of person would he be to not reciprocate the gesture?

He inched his way closer to her and rested one of his hands on her shoulder. "Tamara, do you really mean that?"

She raised her head, but allowed herself to slowly nod. Never had she met such an unassuming and loving person as this. She wiped the moisture from her eyes as her next words emerged. Words that he did not expect to hear coming from her, but yet they did nonetheless. "I owe you so much."

"You owe me nothing," he said decisively.

"You don't understand," she whispered. "I really am grateful to you."

"Why?" He asked. "I didn't do anything extraordinary, Tamara. What I did was quite the opposite."

"No, it's not that. You helped me to realize that all I've been doing since coming to this town is running away and being afraid. All this time, I felt like a scared rabbit, running towards the woods before anyone could actually see me. I was afraid to make friends, to experience life. I know this sounds strange to you, but it's true. Aside from Bill, you're the only friend I've been able to find since coming here."

As her words emerged, he could tell that she was close to crying. At the same instance, he knew that this was her hurdle and that she would have to conquer it on her own. He remained silent and waited for her to continue speaking.

"I know that I'm terrified at the prospect of feeling something for another person, but I do feel something and that frightens me." Her eyes met his and she knew that she was somehow imploring him to understand or grasp her words even if she could not.

"I'm not following what you're saying, Tamara," He said softly.

"The night I ended the relationship with Neil, he threatened me saying that if I were to start a new relationship with anyone, that he would…he'd bury me," her voice emerged and she looked into his eyes. "Willy, I don't really have the courage to face this."

"But you have and you are," he said. "You remember when I said last night that I would go with you to Somerdale?"

She nodded.

"I meant it with all my heart, Tamara. I didn't say it to make you feel better or to steal a kiss, I said it because it was the truth. From now on, whatever it is you have to face, you won't be facing it alone," he affirmed. "In knowing that, you can tell me anything you want and nothing will go beyond this room if you don't wish for it to."

She lowered her head. "I'm scared."

"I know, but let me ask you something. Do you really care for me or have I made another mistake in my interpretation of your words and actions?"

Despite her willing herself not to, she allowed the tears to escape from beneath her eyes. As they streamed down over her face, her gaze eventually met his. As soon as she was looking at him, she bit down on her lip and slowly nodded.

"Really?" He asked, his voice etched in disbelief.

"H-how could I not? You're kind, caring, loving and all the things that I had forgotten even existed," she said, her breathing now haggard, but she tried to find the words she wanted to say. "You gave me strength when I needed it the most and you comforted me when I was afraid. Sometimes, I think you understand me better than I understand myself and…"

Her words abruptly ceased as he once again placed two fingers over her lips. "Shhh," he whispered, the sounds emerging as a soft hiss, but he somehow succeeded in silencing her.

Wordlessly, he reached over and took her face gently in his hands and tipped it up so that she was looking deeply into his eyes.

"Willy," she murmured his name, but nothing further emerged from her as she felt the softness of his lips capturing hers. Her eyes closed as she felt the warmth of his kiss making the world spin away. Eventually, she allowed her arms to wind their way around him and he soon felt her lips softening beneath the pressure of his.

After several moments, it broke and when she tried to withdraw, she realized that he was holding her securely in his arms. "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," he assured her, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'll do everything in my power to protect you, Tamara."

Nodding, she allowed her body to completely relax in his hold. She believed every word he said, after all, Willy Wonka had become her knight in shining armor. At the same time, she knew that although he had made a blatant oversight, she had forgiven him for it.

Seconds later, he withdrew, his eyes never leaving her face. "What's going to happen now, Willy?" She asked softly.

"We're going to contend with whatever comes, but we won't be sitting in separate rooms doing it…" He leaned over with the intention of giving her another kiss, but stopped when someone knocked at the door. "…Whoever that is, they certainly do have impeccable timing, don't they?"

Tamara smiled weakly and nodded as he released her, stood up, and walked over to the door in order to open it.


	31. Chapter 30: An Old Photograph

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter of this story. I figured that it would be nice if I go ahead and release you all from the cliff hanger. This chapter will be the start of some things starting to really happen. Here's hoping that you enjoy this. It is a tad bit longer than the previous chapters. But, I think that given what happens here, you will enjoy this._

_For all of you reviewers, here's the break to the cliffhanger. Hopefully you will enjoy this breaking of this._

_Lysi Marie, thanks for the review, glad you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you continue to enjoy where this story is going. I think that you knowing what happens next is about time. So enjoy, and have a great weekend._

_Ya Ya, yes, I know the Starshine thing did not seem Wilder Wonkaish, but I added his feelings after that because it did seem awkward. I just wanted him to say something that was cheesy enough that it came across as spontaneous. That's specifically why it was I opted to go that route. But, normally I would not have him use that Starshine bit because of the fact that it seems too Depp-like. So, yeah, I know what you're saying, but I tossed that bit in to give him some level of awkwardness with her. From what I have experienced with guys, they tend to get tongue tied when it comes to girls they like, so I was sort of playing off that bit a little._

_iCraft, thanks so much for jumping into this story and letting me know what you think. I'm deeply happy that you are enjoying this and that you took the time to let me know. I have been enjoying the work on this story, and I thoroughly enjoy the enjoyment of those who read and review my work. Thanks a lot for leaving your thoughts, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this story._

_Victory Starr, it's really awesome of you to come and review every chapter and keep me posted on what you like here. You have a good way of predicting what sort of trouble I am stirring up. So, here's hoping that you continue to enjoy._

_Will I break 100 with this chapter? Who knows, but I will send out a very special thank you to all of you for reading, as well as reviewing._

_Continue to enjoy, and do keep me posted on how this is shaping up. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 30: An Old Photograph**

Standing outside the room was the leader of the Oompa Loompas and he was looking up at Willy with alarm etched in his dark eyes. "I must speak with you, it is a matter of grave urgency." These were the words that emerged before Willy could even inquire as to why his worker had come to Tamara's room in the first place.

"What is it, Naibouli?" Willy asked. "Did another package come?"

The Oompa Loompa nodded gravely. "It is far worse than the last ones that have come, Mr. Wonka. It not only involves you, but it could very well leave an impact on the welfare of your guest." He leaned towards Willy, his words growing much softer, too soft for Tamara to hear. "It would seem as though your admirer is quite upset with you."

"Upset with me?" Willy repeated with traces of irony in his voice.

"Did you not see the paper that was published yesterday?" Naibouli asked.

"No, I can't say that I did," he responded, but cast a slight glance back into the room. "I seemed to have had other things that needed my attention."

The worker nodded, but instead of dwelling on this, he took a deep breath and began to speak. "While you were out the other night, the paparazzi found you sitting on a bench with that young lady. They got the back of your heads and spun it into the latest gossip about your private life." He extended the newspaper and watched as Willy accepted it and began to read. "As you can see, it would perhaps lead someone to believe that you chose another lady over the one who has been sending you these." He motioned down to the opened package.

Willy nodded, but turned around and could see that Tamara was standing in the center of the room, his tall stature preventing her from seeing the Oompa Loompa's green hair and orange face.

"Then let me have the package," Willy said firmly as he extended his hands towards the small brown box.

"Are you certain you want to see it?" The worker asked.

"I have to, if it involves Tamara, there is no way that I will keep this a secret from her," Willy said. "If she is in danger because of my bringing her here, then we have to do whatever we can to protect her. If we know what we are up against, then that is all the better. 'Knowledge is power', my friend."

"Willy?" Tamara's voice emerged, the simple cadence etched in worry. When he turned back to face her, she continued. "You have to tell me what this is about if it involves me."

Instead of responding to her directly, Willy simply nodded as he turned back to face Naibouli. "She has a right to know," was all he said.

Agreeing, the Oompa Loompa extended the parcel to Willy, but at the same moment, began to speak, his words etched in his own brand of concern. "Last evening as I was checking the locks to the side building in the northernmost sector of the factory grounds, I spotted the same young woman who was leaving the mail for you. She had managed to sneak into the building, and I initially thought that it was a homeless person looking to find protection from the elements outside. Yet, as she came closer, I recognized that she was the same person. She seemed to know where it was she was going and I was led to believe that she had found her way to the door leading into the factory."

"If that's the case, then have Piliatoa put another lock on the door. We can't have her finding her way inside, and do make certain that Charlie and his family each have a key to that lock," Willy instructed.

"I will tend to that straightaway, sir," Naibouli said.

"Did anything else happen?" Willy asked.

"Yes, she ended up dropping this on the ground just before running away. I tried to confront her, but she got rather spooked. I don't think she really saw me, but all the same, I did manage to conceal myself in the shadows."

Willy nodded. "Then I will count on you to take care of the lock and make sure that the grounds are secured."

"Of course," he said and with a short bow, Willy's loyal worker departed.

As soon as he was gone, the chocolatier brought the object into the room and closed the door behind him.

Approaching where Tamara was now standing, he could see that her face was unusually pale. "W-what is it?" She whispered. "H-how does this affect me?"

Willy sat down on the sofa. "I'm not exactly certain, but before we open this, we have to try and stay calm."

"I don't know if I can," she whispered honestly as she seated herself next to him. After several seconds, she suddenly felt one of his arms wrapping securely around her and pulling her into his embrace. Feeling this, she raised her head. "Willy, I'm scared."

"I know, and for what it's worth, so am I. You remember what I said about us not being alone in this?" When she nodded, he continued to speak, his voice firm. "What I initially did to you was in reaction to that fear, and that was wrong, but now I'm going to try and do what is right."

"I already know that," she whispered.

He nodded. "Well then, I suppose the sooner we look inside this box, the better it will be for both of us. Are you ready?"

"Let me see the article first," Tamara said.

Willy extended the newspaper to her and she quickly read through it. Once she had finished, her face had gone from pasty white to crimson in a matter of seconds.

For his part, the chocolatier looked at her, his eyes filled with bemusement. "It would seem that while I was getting the chocolate out of your hair the other night, the paparazzi pegged you as my girlfriend."

Tamara looked at him. "Then I guess after it was published, Belinda got jealous."

"I would imagine so," he said. "Shall I open this? We can almost anticipate what's going to be inside."

Tamara nervously nodded, but watched as Willy lifted the lid of the box and looked down at the objects inside.

Although the typical heart-shaped candy wrappers were present, the first things they noticed were the mangled up news article covered with splotches of blood and the things that had been taken out of Tamara's bedroom.

Many of these items, she immediately recognized. Yet, the one that specifically made her face lose all of its color was the portrait of her family. "Oh my God! My parents…" she whispered, the sounds of her voice emerging through the lump that was caught in her throat. "…Is she trying to do something to them now? They've already been through enough with Neil."

"Shhh," Willy's calming voice interjected. "I don't think she's targeting them, Tamara. It would seem to me that she's only targeting you, which is bad enough."

"Why would she do such a thing?"

"You said it just now, it's because she thinks that you are my new girlfriend," he said, a small smile lining his, otherwise earnest, face. "I would guess that she figures you to be competition for my affections. What she does not seem to realize is that it was her actions that catalyzed what eventually happened between us."

"What would she do if she knew about what had happened between us?" Tamara asked as she looked fearfully into his eyes.

Seconds slowly ticked by before her attention diverted and she saw a small plastic figure that had been dropped into the box. She fished it out and held it in the palm of her hand, the tears catching in her eyes.

"She must have figured it out," Willy said softly as he touched the photograph and looked down at the markings over Tamara's eyes as well as the large frowning face that seemed to dominate it. "Tamara, I'm so sorry for causing you to get caught up in all of this," he whispered, his eyes momentarily closing. "This was never my intention."

"It's not your fault, Willy," she whispered trying to keep the brave undertones in her voice, but somehow failing miserably. After several moments the words seemed to fade into nothingness as she looked down and stared at the photograph that he had taken out of her hands.

Seconds later, his next words emerged. "I really had no idea that she would do this to you. I thought she was a little bit obsessed, but Tamara…"

"…S-she wants me dead," the young woman whispered. "T-this is a warning to me, to stay away from you and to let her do whatever she will." As these words emerged, she could feel her voice rising in pitch. She wrapped her arms around herself, her body beginning to tremble in fright. "Oh God, I should go, somewhere, anywhere…If she catches me here, she'll kill me…I'm not safe anywhere…" Her hysterical words filled his ears and he watched her try to stand up and start running towards the door.

Before she could reach it, her knees buckled and she sank to the ground, her body in the same stance as it had been in the beige room, the panic gripping her and somehow not letting go.

Swallowing, he got to his feet and cast the box aside before going over to her. "I don't care about anything else, Tamara, all I care about is you." He got down on the floor where she was sitting and carefully pulled her against him, her face pressing against his chest. "You're not alone anymore, and I swear that if she so much as tries to hurt you, then she'll have to get through me first."

"It was all so special to me, my room, the pictures, and the figures," she whispered as her gaze scanned the room and she could see the photograph still lying on the sofa. "My father had that picture framed especially for me. He did it just before I left home. He s-said that it would keep us all together in spirit." She raised her head and looked up at him, her eyes filled with vulnerability. "I h-hung it next to my bed so that I could look at it every night before I went to sleep. Somehow, through that, I felt as though they were close by."

She shook her head. "Oh God, how could she do this to me? I never did anything to hurt anyone, I only tried to be a good friend…" She broke down and began to cry, the soft sobs filling the room, the fear emerging in her words.

Willy kept her in his arms, his hold tightening as he spoke, his soft words echoing in her ear. "You're very lucky to have such a loving and accepting family, and that's not going to change. That picture can always be replaced, and I'm certain that when we see your family, we can ask your father if he still has the negatives for it. That way we can make sure we get another picture made," he said gently.

"I know you're right," she managed to speak, her voice cracking.

"I think I am at this point. What all of this ultimately proves is how psychologically unwell Belinda is. Does she honestly believe that by harming you or damaging your things that she will win my affections?" He took her face gently in his hands and tipped it up so that she would be looking at him. "She won't, Tamara, she's not going to succeed."

"But what if she does?" She whimpered.

"I want you to listen to me," he began, his voice etched with more emotion than he thought he was even capable of. "She will not succeed because I do not love her. There is nothing that will ever earn her my love, much less my respect." As he spoke, he could somehow feel his own defenses breaking down. "No matter what happens, Tamara Jenkins, I won't let that happen, and it doesn't matter how scared I get."

Tamara took a deep breath. "I just can't understand why she would think that just because I'm not there, that I would automatically be here."

Willy shook his head. "It was the timing is all. It was the worst possible timing. Neither of us knew that this was going to happen. Of course, we could have surmised it because of what you found after you had gone home that night."

"Y-yes," she whispered as he inched his way out of her embrace and got to his feet. As soon as he was standing, she watched as he reached for her hands. Offering them, she allowed him to help her stand up.

"Let's try and get this behind us," he said softly as he pulled her gently over towards the sofa, the terror somehow cursing its way through her until it touched him.

You have to be strong for her, he thought to himself as he put a reassuring arm around her shoulder. Seconds later, he helped her to sit down before retrieving the box and seating himself next to her.

Stoically, he began to once more inspect the contents.

After several moments, he found the page from Tamara's journal and looked down at the snapshot that covered it. Below it, he could see her neat penmanship, but could not make out the specific words on the page. He removed it and looked down into the face of the man who was displayed there.

An immediate feeling of dislike overwhelmed the chocolatier as he regarded the possessive manner in which the man had his arm around Tamara's waist. A feeling of anger surged through him, but his eyes widened when he read the three words that were stenciled across the top of the page in Belinda's uneven scrawl. 'I called him'. At the bottom of the page, two more words were written. 'He's coming.'

The chocolatier glanced over at Tamara and noticed that she was still sitting with her head lowered and trembling hands holding tightly to the picture of her family. "Tamara," Willy eventually managed to speak her name, his voice soft.

Upon hearing this, she raised her head and stared at ripped out page from the journal. She pondered for several moments where the rest of her private notebook was, but eventually concluded that it was back at the apartment in probably what was left of her bedroom.

As soon as she took in the photograph that was taped onto the page, her eyes widened. "Oh no…anything but that," She whimpered softly.

"You said that you don't have feelings for this man, but where did this photograph come from?" Willy asked.

"It was in my journal," she confessed.

"In your journal," he repeated. "Why would this be in your journal if you didn't feel something for him?"

"I do feel something for him, I hate him," she whispered, but looked away. When he said nothing, she took a deep breath. "Please don't be angry with me for having it. I mean; there is a reason, even if it may not be a very good one."

"I'm not angry with you," he spoke as soon as he took note of her agitation. There was something unsettling in the way she was sitting there. He was not jealous, but he did feel an element of concern for her well-being simply because she looked as though she was about to jump out of her skin. Instead of voicing this, he simply waited for her to speak.

For her part, Tamara simply looked at him, her eyes wide with fright as her plea emerged, the words encased in defeat. "Before you get mad at me, just let me explain."

Willy nodded mutely, his attention now on her. She's changed somehow, he thought sadly as he looked at her. Gone was the feeling of assertiveness that she had carried when they had played cards the night before or when he had kissed her just before his worker had knocked at the door.

In its place, an intimidated and terrified young woman remained. Did she really think that he was going to react to this in jealousy or rage? He hated seeing this in her and it tore him to bits to watch how timorous she now looked in the wake of this new knowledge. Instead of speaking, he could do nothing except wait for her to offer an explanation.

"That picture was taken a little over a year ago," she began. "It was during a time when Neil was acting like a normal person and we were relatively happy together."

"Relatively happy?" Willy asked arching an eyebrow. He was trying to understand what was happening, but it was proving difficult. "Were you happy with this man?"

She took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, I was. I mean; there were times when Neil had been a very nice guy. The problems between us started about half a year ago. I started taking dance classes and I wanted to surprise him. But, when you dance, you have to dance with another person. Anyway, when he found out about it, he got really jealous and pressured me to quit. I didn't want to, the class was a lot of fun, but I eventually did because he started spying on me to see if I was 'flirting' with the guys in my class.

"Anyway, that was when I started to notice that he was getting jealous of everyone and everything. He even tried to push away my family and friends. Soon it became clear to me that he wanted me to depend on him for everything and to keep me in a virtual box. For a while I let him do it, until one night when we were at my parents' house alone. He had been acting so strangely and started saying crazy stuff like, 'I can't live without you' and 'If we ever broke up, I'd run my car into a tree'. Soon after that, I realized how miserable I was and had to accept the fact that he was trying to keep me in the relationship." She wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep breath and continued, her voice emerging weary from exhaustion.

"It felt rather like a sense of obligation instead of love. There were days when I was so scared of him, afraid that his emotional abuses were going to escalate into physical beatings. After a while, I started telling people that he was so great and that everything was wonderful. But deep down inside, I knew it was a lie, and that he was nothing but a tyrant." She sniffed and tried to wipe the persistent tears from her cheeks. "I ended the relationship, but I decided to keep that picture as a reminder of how sometimes the things that we think are so great are often not. Belinda is case in point to that summation as well, I suppose."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well, w-when she first moved in, we immediately hit it off and I thought she was someone who had the potential of becoming a friend." She shook her head as she tossed the photograph to one side. "She was never my friend, maybe her actions were detectable, but I was blind and naïve about what her true motives were."

Willy took a deep breath. "You are far too good a person to put yourself through all of this heartache."

"But, you're angry about the picture," she whispered meekly.

"No, I'm not," he said with an adamant shake of his head. "I'm not like Neil, Tamara, I would never try to make you into something that you are not." He reached over and touched her face, his soft fingertips rubbing against her cheek. "I care far too much for you than to expect you to do anything to suit me and I asked if you had feelings for him because of what I'm starting to feel for you. I care for you, and I want to be there for you, if ever you need me. I would do everything I could to assure you of that."

She lowered her head, but still leaned into his gentle touch. "Old habits die hard."

"I know," he said. "But it was you who said that we have to keep a logical mind about all of this, right?"

"I'm trying to," she whispered. "But, I'm so scared, Willy."

He nodded as he took a deep breath. "I know, and chances are, we must accept the fact that Belinda did call Neil and that he is on his way here. What we have make sure of is that you are safe."

Tamara nodded but took a deep breath before looking over at him. "I have to get that journal, Willy. It has everything that happened since we broke up. It was basically the only place where I could be real and express how I feel. He never really knew that much about it. But, soon after we broke up, I started keeping a log of all the harassing phone calls and the times when I felt uncomfortable. It soon became my sounding board for all the anguish he was causing me. I guess it was a far cry easier for me to do that than to actually talk about it.

"Anyway, I figured that if I recorded everything that happened, then maybe one day it might be enough to make him stop. On the page that followed this one, I kept a sketch that my brother did. He's like an artist, and was always drawing pictures and stuff. The picture was of a heart that had been broken in two. It was copied and taped into the journal on the day that I told Neil that we were through. This was the hardest thing that I ever had to do. I never regretted having kept this picture until now." As she spoke, the tears continued to stream down her face. "I didn't expect her to find it and try to use it against me."

Willy nodded. "Nor did I. I thought all this time that she just wanted to win me over with travel brochures, plagiarized quotes, and bad poetry. I had no idea that we would ultimately drag you into all of this."

Tamara nodded, but no further words emerged from her. She simply watched as Willy shoved the box off his lap and allowed it to hit the floor. He then pulled her towards him and held her tightly in his arms. "Everything is going to be alright, my dearest lady."

She nodded. "I believe you, Willy, but I cannot help but conclude that Belinda probably went in and trashed my room," she murmured from within his hold.

"It would seem a logical conclusion," he said softly, but his next words emerged in the form of a heartfelt promise. "I will do whatever I can to replace the things that she damaged."

From within his embrace, she offered a hesitant nod, but her next words emerged nonetheless. "The thing is, even though I'm afraid, I know that I have to go back and see if there's something there worth salvaging," she whispered.

"Why would you put yourself through all of that?" He asked, his voice taking on a more stern intonation.

"It's all I've got left. Everything that ever meant anything to me is in that room. The pictures and the mementos. All the things that define who I am." She looked at him, her eyes imploring him to understand.

"Tamara, this is absolutely absurd. You know that between Belinda being out there and Neil coming into town, it's not safe for you. What you're proposing is dangerous, it's rather like suicide."

"I know, but there are some things in that room that mean a lot to me and they are the things that cannot ever be replaced." Unconsciously, she bit down on her lip.

He reached over and touched her mouth and smiled as she released the hold. "You know, I can always tell when you're afraid or nervous about something because you constantly abuse your lower lip." He smiled impishly at her, but after several seconds, he took a deep breath only to release it in a sigh. "You're really determined to go back there, aren't you?"

"I have to," she whispered, all the while hoping that he would understand. "I have to see if the things that actually mean something to me are still intact."

"I'll take you, then. Just tell me one thing. If we leave in the next hour, will Belinda be at home?" He asked.

"No, she's usually gone during the day," she said.

"Then that means that we can simply slip in and then slip out again," he affirmed.

"A-are you sure?" She asked. "I mean; would it be safe for you?"

Willy took a deep breath, but nodded. "I was going to make the suggestion earlier, but now that you have, we can go and then be back in time for dinner." He leaned over and kissed her ever so gently, his lips soft as they brushed against hers.

As soon as he withdrew, she looked at him, but offered a slight nod.

"How are we going to get there?" She asked. "By walking?"

"No, I've actually got another way," he smiled mysteriously.


	32. Chapter 31: The Journey

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment. Wow five reviews, that's so wonderful considering that this story has not broken four reviews for chapter…and I hit the 100 reviews mark (my third story to do that.) Thank you so much for the reviews. You folks are really awesome, and I am so honored by the thought that you have put into your reviews._

_I hope that this story continues to maintain the same level of integrity that the film has displayed. I truly love this movie, I hold Gene Wilder in high esteem. He's truly a wonderful and diverse actor. So, thanks to those of you who know and understand my loving his way of bringing Willy to life. Also, if you need something really good to read between the chapters of this, might I interest you in 'If Sweet Things Spoil'? This story is written in the same essence as good Wilder Wonka fictions, and it's very good reading. I know how important it is to plug the stories of my friends._

_Now for individual reviews, with sincerest thanks to all my reviewers for getting me over the 100 mark. It's not quantity that counts, it's the quality, and you are all just awesome._

_Lysi Marie, glad you are continuing to enjoy, and you guessed right with the mode of transportation. I must be becoming more predictable with my writing…or Willy is just so Willy that it works._

_Ya Ya, glad you liked this latest chapter, and hope you continue to enjoy. I hope that the suspense remains high. Next chapter will return us to our favorite antagonists, so stay tuned._

_iCraft, great to see you here again, and yes, enjoy Willy's favorite mode of transport. The amazing chocolatier is not going to be hoofing it, and his bicycle is still in the inventing room, so enjoy what he comes up with._

_La Vik., thanks for putting me over the 100 mark. It means a lot, and I'm really grateful to you for the wonderful reviews. Thanks for giving me three reviews in one sitting. That was really sweet of you. I hope you continue to enjoy as I have been enjoying your story as well. Look forward to reading more._

_Victory Starr, thanks for the wonderful review and for sticking with me throughout the story. I'm so glad you are enjoying where this is going, and yes, Willy's wanting to be strong for her is going to be a theme here that may just come back, so stay tuned and enjoy._

_Hope everyone continues to enjoy. Do keep me posted on how this is shaping up. I love the reviews and think you all are so awesome. Thanks and enjoy. The chapter title I selected from a Chris de Burgh song. He's one of my favorite singers, so it seemed fitting.  
_

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**Chapter 31: The Journey**

Twenty minutes later, Willy and Tamara were sitting in the Wonkavator and he had just pressed the 'Up and Out' button.

As Willy's prized invention began to shoot its way upwards at breakneck speed, Tamara's eyes were wide as she watched the walls of the factory spinning away to nothingness. "W-Willy," she eventually spoke his name, the nervousness and fear engulfing her. He watched as seconds passed and she clamped her eyes shut, her body beginning to tremble unconsciously.

Unlike the sardonic demeanor he carried with Charlie and his grandfather the first time they rode in this invention, he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the comfort of his embrace. "Everything is going to be alright, Tamara, try not to worry. You see, my dear, we have used this function before and both Charlie and I are alive and well." He leaned in and kissed her forehead as the Great Glass Wonkavator flew out of the factory and was soon hovering over the town. "Go ahead and open your eyes now. You're perfectly safe."

Heeding these words, she allowed her eyes to open and immediately felt the brightness of the sunshine wafting through the glass enclosure of the tiny room. Slowly, she managed to get to her feet so that she could look outside through the glass wall of the enclosure. In profound disbelief, she allowed her body to lower back onto the small seat, her hand now covering her mouth, and her head shaking as her next words emerged in the form of a stutter.

"B-but, Willy, it's…not…possible."

Willy smiled gently, but remained seated and watched as she once again got up, gripped the small handrail, and stared out across the vast countryside below. He waited for several moments as she turned away from the view and looked at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

Never in her wildest dreams could she even imagine that Willy Wonka could hold this kind of magic in the palm of his hand. Yet, there she was, alone with him in a gem shaped object staring out over the town below. Somehow, this held an almost romantic essence, and from a distance, it emanated such loveliness.

Seconds later she turned away from the glass window and looked at the chocolatier. He remained seated, but carried a small smile on his face, his eyes looking over at her, the blue colored orbs level and steady as he took in the surprise that consumed her.

"It's s-so beautiful," she found herself repeating the words. The awe that was in her voice made Willy want to take her in his arms and hold her. Her pleasant surprise demonstrated one of his favorite emotions and he could instinctively tell that she was enjoying that, which he was now offering her.

"Yes, it is," he said, but his eyes, instead of staring outside, were looking straight at her. "It is sometimes quite extraordinary how the things that we see from a distance can be so beautiful, and yet when we find ourselves right in the middle of them, they aren't that way at all."

"Are people like that, too?" She whispered. "I mean; are you?"

"I hope not, but perhaps, in some respects, I am," he said truthfully. "Yet, I have found that if a person is truly beautiful inside, then that will generally radiate that out for others to see." He smiled as he reached over and brushed her hair out from in front of her face. "Sometimes, we simply must begin by looking at the right people."

She smiled sadly, but looked directly at him. "I think I am," she said shyly, but eventually sat back down next to him.

"We need to navigate this to your home address," he said after several moments of silence had passed between them.

She nodded and once they had entered it into the keypad, she unconsciously began to search for his hand. Finding it and feeling his fingers intertwine with hers, she spoke. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"I have not done anything, at least nothing that deems your gratitude," he objected.

"But Willy, you're coming with me to do this."

"Did you honestly believe, even for an instant, that I would have simply permitted you to go back there all by yourself?" He asked, his gaze laced with concern. "My dear lady, I could never have done that.

"I wasn't really sure," she whispered honestly. "I mean; perhaps the idea of my going is a little bit crazy, but for you...it seems impossible, maybe even a little bit insane."

Willy smirked. "You know what Oscar Levant once said? 'There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line'."

"But, aren't you at least a little bit afraid?" She asked.

"It is generally not the greatest of traditions for me to admit my fear," he said with an almost endearing arrogance laced in his voice. As these words hung in the air, he inhaled slowly, but releasing that breath, he nodded, his next words paralleling her concerns. "I am a bit worried, Tamara, but more for you than for myself."

She nodded slowly as they reached a familiar sector of town and found themselves hovering over the building where she lived. Using the functions on the key pad, Willy managed to move the invention closer to the window.

From where they were hanging in midair, she leaned up against the glass and tried to peer into the confines of her bedroom. The curtain rod was lackadaisically hanging down over the window and all that she was able to make out were the remnants of her curtains that seemed to be halfway arched over the lower part of the window. "I can't see inside," she whispered.

Willy took a deep breath and pressed a series of buttons until she could feel the object rising about a meter so that she could look down into her room. "Is that better?" He asked.

Tamara nodded, and turned so that she could see inside. As soon as her gaze swept over the room, her face lost all its color before she turned away from it and looked at Willy. "She destroyed everything," she whispered brokenly.

"Then perhaps we should head back then," he said softly. "It would seem rather pointless for us to stay unless there is something there worth salvaging."

"But, there is," she whispered. "I have a safe and a secret drawer. Is there a way to get inside from here?"

"Perhaps but that's far too dangerous. You could risk falling," he said with an adamant shake of his head. "Aside from that, the Wonkavator has a safety valve that will not open until we are safely on the ground.

Tamara shook her head. "It's pointless anyway…look!"

Willy turned and could see that the door had opened and the silhouette of someone was seen rushing into the room and over towards the window. "Hang on, we're getting out of here," he said, all the while not certain if the occupant had even seen the Glass Elevator. One thing was clear to him, it was time for them to put some distance between that building and themselves. Just as they had taken off, Belinda's face suddenly appeared on the other side of Tamara's bedroom window.

"What now?" She whispered.

"Perhaps the best thing for us to do is return to the factory," he said softly. "Tamara, I'm sorry."

"I have to get the safe out of my room," she whispered, her gaze now on her lap. "And the journal, it has the stuff that Neil has done."

"How do we do that?" He asked sternly. "That could have been Belinda or Neil at the window. Do you honestly want to put your security at risk for these objects?"

"But it's all I've got," she whispered. "Have you ever lost everything you owned?"

"Yes, I have," he said softly. "But, not in this way."

"Please, Willy," she pleaded as she closed her eyes and allowed the tears to stream down over her face.

"You know that what you're asking me to do is crazy. Even if we do go back then we have to go when Belinda's not there. Do you at least have a key that we can use to get inside?"

"Key?" She whispered, but after several seconds, her face went completely white.

Misinterpreting her reaction, he took a deep breath. "Tamara, I'm not angry with you about anything, I'm just as worried and frightened as you are about this. I don't want either of us to get hurt, but we have to think about what we're doing." He leaned over and touched her face with his fingertips. "OK?"

"It's not just objects, Willy," she whispered as the tears caught beneath her eyes. "The key to the apartment is in my purse and I have no idea where that is. I mean; how could I be so stupid and forget about that?"

"You're not stupid, you're just afraid," he said somewhat impatiently. "Try and pull yourself together and tell me if you can at least remember the last place you had it?"

"No, I just remember that the key is in my purse," she said.

"You didn't have your purse with you when we crossed paths the other day," he said.

"So how are we going to get inside?" She asked weakly. "I mean; I always have my purse with me."

"Look," he began to speak, his voice etched in certainty. "I do know that you did not have it with you the other day," he said, but seeing the troubled look that remained, he took a deep breath. "Keep in mind, you can always get the cards and other things replaced. The only thing that might prove difficult would be getting a spare key made, which you could probably have that done through your landlord. Now, you didn't leave it at home, did you?"

"No, I took it with me when I went to work that day. Maybe it's still at Bill's Candy Shop. After he and I spoke the other day, I must have been pretty freaked out when I left. All I remember was walking through town and for some reason, making my way towards the factory. I had thought about having lunch, but after everything that happened, I didn't have much of an appetite left. It didn't really occur to me that I had actually left it somewhere until…" her words trailed off and she looked down at her hands.

"…I remember," he said with an unhappy sigh. "You told me that I should check your purse for identification and since you didn't have it with you, I couldn't."

"It's rather strange for me to forget," she said. "Usually, I always have it with me, but I guess I could have forgotten it because I had been feeling rather out of sorts that day."

"Then, perhaps we should go to Bill's first. I believe that he did say when I spoke to him some days ago that your purse was there. Perhaps you should sit back down so that we can change direction," he said.

With his hand on a control panel, he pushed a series of buttons and the Great Glass Wonkavator abruptly stopped, hung in the air for several seconds before taking off and flying off in another direction.

Tamara found herself falling against him as this was happening, but as soon as the machine had stabilized itself, she looked over at him. As she continued to process his words, a question suddenly hit her with the force of a freight train. "Willy, c-could I ask you an unrelated question?"

"You can ask me whatever you like," he smiled. "If it gets your mind off these troubling thoughts, then perhaps it might be a good idea for you to use that sort of diversion tactic."

"Did you ever meet Bill from the candy store?" She asked. "He spoke of you so often that I started to believe that maybe he knew you once upon a time."

"You're very observant," he said with a slight nod. "The answer to your question is yes, we do know each other. Bill and I have been friends for years. We actually went to school together, but that was a very long time ago."

"How long ago?" She asked shyly.

"Are you trying to get me to disclose my age now?" He asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"You already know that I'm twenty-four," she argued.

"Alright, fair enough, I'm eight years older than you," he said. "Now, shall I give you a more thorough answer to your question?"

She nodded as she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Let's see," he began as he brushed his fingers up against his mouth and it looked as though he was aptly contemplating what he was going to say next. "After we finished school, he and I went into the same industry, but I found more joy in inventing new things, while he just liked marketing them. We had similar candy shops and through that, we had a playful sort of competition with each another. After several years had passed, I had grown bored with selling things and just inventing on the side. So instead of selling candy, I decided to open the factory and make candy."

"You were more ambitious than he was," she said softly.

He nodded. "Yes, much more, but the idea seemed to work rather well. The factory no longer felt like it was a way for me to compete with him. Then after that, what essentially happened was I would send all my newest ideas to him and let him try and sell them just to see if the formulas actually worked. If they sold well, then I knew that they could be marketed in other places. It was sort of what scientists might call a 'control' group. Once, I knew what people wanted, I set about to making it."

"That's brilliant," she said appreciatively.

"Not really, market researchers do this sort of thing all the time," he said, his voice taking on a more nonchalant tone.

Instead of commenting on this, she waited for him to continue.

"Perhaps it was a good idea since candy trends are rather hard to pin down at times. At any rate, without his help, I'd have never been able to accomplish all that much. Since he always helped me with these little projects, I decided that his candy store would be where the fifth Golden Ticket was to be found. That was the ticket that Charlie found. After the tour, Charlie became the person who would one day take my place and run the factory."

"Take your place?" She asked. "But, Willy, you're not that old."

"No, but I'm not getting any younger. I'm not planning on quitting any time soon if that's what you're thinking. I love my work, and I'm pretty good at it."

"Just 'pretty good'?" She asked skeptically. "You're the greatest at it. I mean; there's no one in this world quite like you." As these words emerged she started to wonder if he would misinterpret them and somehow believe that she only liked him for his work. The truth was, she felt far more for him than that of just being a fan of his candy. Somehow, she hoped that he would be able to see that.

He smiled as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "That means a great deal to me. Perhaps far more than you can imagine."

She shrugged her shoulders, but said nothing in response to these words.

"Now then where was I?" He thought aloud.

"You were talking about Charlie and how you love your work," she said softly.

"Oh yes," he smiled. "Regardless of what my earlier intentions were, somehow I found that I work very well with Charlie; he's smart, inquisitive, and has a number of really good ideas. He just needs a bit more confidence, but I think in time, he will discover his vast potential."

"I hope so," Tamara said.

"So, now it's your turn to tell me about how you came to meet Bill. Don't forget to tell me how it was you managed to find work at his shop," he said.

Instead of immediately answering, she took a deep breath. "I remember that day pretty well actually. I had just moved into town only three or four days day before we met. It was also before Belinda had moved in with me. I was in the midst of trying to find work as a receptionist for a physical therapist. That was the work I had done before moving. It consisted of paperwork, writing form letters, and taking shorthand. It wasn't such a bad job and my credentials were good, but because employment here is not so good, the idea of my getting a job in that field seemed remote at best. I figured that I might be able to find something in that field, but I couldn't.

"Anyway, on that particular day, I was feeling pretty depressed about it. I mean; I had just had an interview that didn't go over well at all. I walked out of the office with the words 'don't call us, we'll call you' literally hanging over my head. That generally means that there's no chance. So, I guess when I stopped by the shop, I had pretty much reached the point of giving up entirely and was contemplating trying my luck elsewhere."

"But you didn't," he said. "I mean; you stayed."

"Yes, but I was seriously thinking about leaving," she confessed. "On that day, I was walking through town and saw one of the delivery trucks from your factory parked not too far away from the building. Then I saw the shop and thought it was quaint and very nice. I approached and found myself staring at all the advertisements that covered the front and sides of the building. I went inside and looked around, all the while noticing how there was something warm and inviting about the place. This seemed obvious from the very first moment I walked through the door. Anyway, Bill was standing at the counter putting wrapped candies into a jar and I approached just as one of them had gotten away from him and fell onto the floor. I reached down to pick it up with the intention of returning it to him. He raised his head and said that I should just keep it."

"That sounds like Bill," he said. "So what happened next?"

"I sat down on one of the stools in front of the counter and ate the piece of candy while he finished what he was doing. Then he turned and asked me what I would like. Since, I was feeling somewhat nostalgic for home, I asked him if he sold anything that had marshmallow and chocolate. I had never had your Marshmallow Round before that day, but as soon as I tried it, I was hooked."

"That's why you like them so much, because they remind you of something happier in your life," he said with a slight nod of his head. "You know, I wasn't really sure what the rationale behind that was. You see, it has never really been one of my best sellers and I had actually contemplated discontinuing them at some point."

Tamara looked at him for some signs of mischief, but when she saw that he looked serious, she took a deep breath. "You can't," she objected, her words a soft whine.

"This candy really means a great deal to you, doesn't it?" He asked.

"They are my favorite," she said, but shyly looked away fearing that she might have said too much.

Willy leaned over and touched her face, this causing her to look back over at him. "I'll make this promise to you. If ever there comes a day that I decide to discontinue them, then I'll still make them for you whenever you like."

"You would?" She asked.

"I would," he affirmed with an adamant nod. "Now, please continue what you were saying."

Tamara nodded and trusting his words, she continued speaking. "Bill brought two of them over, one was wrapped in blue and the other had a warm brown and orange colored paper. I picked that one because brown and orange are more soothing colors, and blue always comes across cold and somewhat distant."

"That sounds like old Slugworth in a nut shell," Willy said with a quirky smile. "Sorry, sometimes I simply can't resist."

She smiled weakly, but instead of commenting on that, she continued her story. "As I was eating the candy, I started taking in the various aspects of the shop and asking him questions about it. My questions were mostly about the history of the building and how it got converted from an old pharmacy into a candy store. The place reminded me of a museum and Bill seemed to really like what I was asking him. Before we knew it, an hour had passed, and the simple meeting had somehow turned into a job interview. As I was getting up to leave, he asked me if I would consider taking a part-time job there and helping him out," she smiled at the memory.

"I don't know why he had even asked me, but later I sort of concluded that perhaps during that hour when we talked, he found out a great deal more about me than he would have, had this been an official interview. Without my even contemplating questions of 'why' or 'how' it was happening, I spontaneously accepted the position and started working there the following day."

"That is a nice way for things to have worked out," he said.

"I just can't believe that he knows you," she confessed openly. "I mean; to find out that you're both friends makes the world seem rather like a small village."

"Yes, it does, and Bill is probably one of the very few people who knows as much about me as I do," he smiled.

"I remember how he would tell me stories about you. I asked him sometimes how come he knew so much about the factory and you, but he never elaborated on it, he just kept me fascinated with these whimsical tales. Everything felt so curious and new to me, but at the same time, it felt like something that came out of a fairy tale. You know, something that is wonderful that could take me away from the pain or the fear of everyday reality. It was nice like being a child again and having the images and ideas filtering through my mind as though watching a movie or cartoon. I felt like I was reliving the Golden Ticket contest all over again. I had only heard bits and pieces about it, but being here somehow made it feel more magical or real."

As these words hung in the air, a companionable silence settled over them.

After several minutes had passed, he spoke, his words breaking the stillness. "Tamara, would you tell me what you were doing during the contest?"

"I was in the middle of my second year of job training," she said. "Everyone was following the news and I was working on learning shorthand and feeling like I was stuck in a typical typing pool. It was not an easy time, but it kept me distracted from the pandemonium that had somehow captured the rest of the world." She took a deep breath. "It was a strange time in my life. I was still at home and had not yet met Neil. I had heard a great deal about the contest, but for whatever reason, It did not seem that important. Now, I think it means something more, perhaps because it somehow felt like the finders were somehow experiencing what happily ever after is. It was as though that idea could really exist." Shrugging her shoulders, she looked over at him, her expression filled with nervousness. "I just hope you don't think I'm some sort of weirdo for saying or believing that."

"I don't think that about you at all. In fact, I believe that 'happily ever after' can exist," he said, his face filled with gentility.

"How can it?" She asked as the Wonkavator reached the lot behind Bill's shop.

Willy took a deep breath, but instead of speaking, he smiled gently as he released her hand and brushed it gently against one side of her face. With his other hand, he reached over and pressed a button that would slowly lower them to the ground. Instead of responding to her inquiry, he motioned towards the handrail. "Hang on, we're about to land."

Tamara nodded and unconsciously, she leaned up against his side and felt his hand moving until his arm was securely wrapped around her shoulder. As she felt this, she buried her face against his side. "I wish someone could help me to believe that 'happily ever after' really does exist," she whispered.

As his hold on her tightened, he took a staggering breath. I want to try, his conscience was screaming as the Great Glass Wonkavator landed on a patch of grass behind Bill's shop.


	33. Chapter 32: In Over One's Head

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. I am hoping to get another update done with my other story, but that will most likely be done tomorrow when I have a little bit more time to work on it. There's a bit of editing that still needs to be done, so if you're following that story, then I hope that you'll be patient with me while I get it together._

_As for this one, things are starting to pick up here._

_Many thanks to my reviewers for sticking with the story and here's hoping that you will continue to enjoy the story. A big thanks to those of you who are taking the time to read through this and give me your comments on it._

_La Vik. it was my pleasure to give a shout out about your story, it's really good and I look forward to the further adventures you have planned for it. Speaking of slimy antagonists…read on.  
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_Lysi Marie, again thanks for sticking with this story and here's hoping you continue to enjoy where this tale will take you. More Wonkavator magic will come. That's a promise._

_Ya Ya, just wait and see what will happen with the safe. I haven't forgotten it, but I have to add a few more barriers for our heroes to get past. Enjoy._

_ICraft, glad to see you again, hope you continue to enjoy._

_That goes for all of you reading, please keep me posted on how this is shaping up. I hope that this is enough suspense for you, but I will not be as quick about posting an update this time. Motivate me…ie. review, but do enjoy._

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**Chapter 32: In Over One's Head**

At the same time Willy and Tamara had left the factory via the Wonkavator, Belinda was at home lying in her bed. Her eyes were closed and her arms were draped across the pillows. As the sun shone through the room, she slowly opened her eyes and began to rub the sleep out of them.

The night before had been nothing more than a hazy memory to her. She remembered having gone to the factory and finding her way into the building. As she had crossed it, she recalled how the man had spoken to her in hostile tones and how this had startled her. She knew that the man who had confronted her could not physically do anything to her, but he could possibly have gone back inside and informed Willy Wonka that she was there. Maybe that would not be such a bad thing after all, she thought smugly as she crawled out of bed.

Crossing the room, she went over to the box where the gun was kept. She opened it and stared down at the metal object. If only she had had the gun with her the night before, then she would have probably been able to handle the midget or dwarf who had succeeded in frightening her.

Yet, even after having returned home, Belinda discovered that she was unable to make out even half of what had happened during the course of these events. She had never encountered someone quite like this before, and while part of her admitted to having been frightened, the other part swore that she would not ever allow another person to intimidate her in such a fashion again.

Casting a glance towards the window, she saw a gold colored object hovering outside. Gasping she approached the window and brushed the curtain aside as she noticed how the strangely shaped object was simply hanging in midair just in front of her roommate's window.

She stared for several moments, the occupants perhaps not even knowing that they were being observed. She concluded that the object was far stranger than anything she had ever seen. Where did it come from? She asked herself.

Without so much as a second contemplation, she raced out of the room and entered Tamara's room again, her eyes staring at the window and not even caring about the objects that were scattered across the floor.

From her vantage point, the golden object was still suspended in the air, but was now about a meter higher than it had been when she had first spotted it.

Straining, she tried to see if she could recognize who was inside, but from where she was standing, the sun's light was shining through the room, thus preventing her from seeing anything. Shielding her eyes, she approached the window as the light from outside practically blinded her.

Although she could still not tell who was inside, there was an element of fascination that she carried about this strange, alien object. It seemed to be hanging there, like a gemstone suspended in thin air. It was different than anything she had ever seen, but it was also beautiful and seemed to carry a strange magic about it.

She approached the window and began to pull the curtains aside. Just as she had managed this, the object literally shot away from the building only to disappear in the distance. "No, don't go," she whispered under her breath as she reached out and touched the glass that covered the window.

What was that thing? She asked herself. Could it have come from another planet? Her eyes stared for several minutes outside, the object now the size of the head of a needle. No, she eventually concluded after several moments had passed, maybe I was only seeing things.

With a casual shrug of her shoulders, she backed away from the window and made her way back across the room. Stepping out into the hallway, she quietly returned to her room to get dressed. Having been in Tamara's room barefoot, she was surprised that she had not gotten hurt while in there, because she had turned the room upside down and the floor was now covered with broken glass and chipped wood.

Maybe I should do something about that, she thought for a fleeting moment. That eventually passed when she stepped back inside her bedroom.

Immediately, she went over to the closet and pulled out a shirt and a pair of jeans before tossing them across the bed. Next, she went to retrieve some undergarments and quickly got dressed. On that particular morning the shower went forgotten.

Moments later and the sounds of nature that were emerging from outside were soon replaced by the swells of music when her clock radio went off. She had opted to sleeping in somewhat that day, since the night before had been a long one.

Of course, she knew that if Neil Kirkwood was anything like her, he would be showing up at the apartment that morning. She figured that together they would be able to start planning their next course of action, which was to find Tamara. Once they did, she figured that he would take care of her once and for all.

For a split second, she pondered if what she had been doing in relation to this man was the right thing. Her conversation with him the night before seemed indicative that he was not a moral sort of person, but at the same time, there was something stern and hard about him that she liked. Perhaps that was precisely what Tamara needed; to have him come in and take charge.

As if on cue, the moment she had finished getting dressed, the sounds of the doorbell chiming in the distance could be heard from the other room.

Calmly, she stepped out of her room and as an afterthought, she closed the door to Tamara's room. She then started to make her way down the hall towards the living room, all the while patting her dark hair into place.

Coming out into the living room, the first thing that she noticed was that the apartment was now in an overt state of disarray. The remnants of her project were still spread out across the dining table. The objects on the living room sofa seemed to be scattered every which way. Tamara's journal was no longer on the sofa, but instead had fallen onto the floor in front of it.

As if propelled by instinct alone, she retrieved the red colored book and laid it on the coffee table before turning her attention towards the front door. Approaching and turning the lock on the door, she slowly pulled it open and peered out into the hallway.

Standing there was a man, his tall frame towering over her. He wore a sleeveless body shirt with 'Gray's Gym' stenciled across the chest of it. A tattoo in the shape of a heart with a dagger stuck through it was bulging from his upper arm. His eyes were a piercing hazel color and the sneer that lined his lips somehow caused Belinda to swallow nervously as a single word emerged in the form of a grunt.

"Belinda?" He spoke and despite her inclination to slam the door right in his face and retreat back into the apartment, she raised her head and nodded. At the same moment, she started to take in even more of his physical attributes.

The man was considerably taller than Tamara, his body well built as though having trained with professional body builders for much of his life. His clothing seemed to emanate every last muscle on his sculptured frame. It was abundantly clear that he was a well built man; strong and sturdy. Of course, if she did not know any better, he seemed to be the poster child for the old saying about someone being 'all brawn and no brains', because he seemed to give off the intelligence of a bag of rocks.

She continued to take in his appearance, right down to noting how his chiseled chin carried the start of a beard. Atop his head, he wore his hair in a very short cropped military-buzz. It was abundantly clear that he was the same man as depicted in the photograph she had found the night before in Tamara's journal. In fact, it seemed as though he had abruptly stepped out of the photograph and straight into their living room.

"You must be Neil," she said trying to keep her voice cheerful, although intimidation seemed to be the overriding emotion there. She backed away from the door, all the while certain that if she hadn't, then he would have no doubt plowed over her as though she was an ant at a picnic.

"Where is she?" He demanded through gritted teeth, his eyes now staring down at her as though bearing holes into her.

"It's like I told you last night, Tamara isn't here. She disappeared three days ago, but I can almost bet you money as to where she's being holed up," she said as he went over to the sofa and seated himself on it. She watched as he sat with his legs sprawled out in front of him, his feet stuck under the coffee table while his arms cradled the back of his head.

For the second time, Belinda contemplated the matter-of-fact manner in which he had come into the apartment and how he seemed intent on taking charge of the situation.

Closing the door, she started to make her way over to where he was sitting. Reaching the other side of the coffee table, she realized that his stance did not change, in fact, it seemed as though he was ready to confront the rest of the world.

After several moments he noticed the red satin-covered journal that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He lowered his arms before leaning over and picking up the object that Belinda had placed on the table only moments before answering the door.

Roughly he began to flip through the pages, his expression indicative that he had recognized Tamara's even handwriting. As the words practically leapt out and slapped him hard across the face, he raised his head momentarily before lowering it and beginning to read one of the entries aloud. "I know that it seems harsh for me to say this, but it seems as though this is the only place where I can be truthful. During the last few months, Neil's changed and I hate the person that he's become."

He arched an eyebrow, but casually tore through several more of the pages and began to read the, now, shaky script. "I hate Neil, I hate what he's been doing to me. Why can't he just leave me alone?"

Several pages later, he took a deep breath and closed the book before looking at Belinda, his eyes somehow glazed over as he regarded the woman who was now seated across from him. "She still holds the torch for me, huh?" His sardonic question emerged as he regarded her through angry looking eyes.

"I told you what you need to know, are you going to believe me or a bunch of words from a woman who says 'no', when she really means 'yes'?"

Neil's eyes darted from the journal to Belinda and back again. It was as though he was trying to calculate what he was being told. Tossing the journal on the other side of the sofa, he took a deep breath and spoke, his voice laced in impatience. "Alright, Lady, what the hell is going on? You said that she still loved me, and yet, this doesn't sound like love to me."

"Maybe what should be happening here is you should be talk to her first and see if you can find out what she has to say about it. Don't you know 'hard to get' when you read it? Her writing may say 'I hate him', but I would bet that she absolutely lusts after you. She wants you Neil, and I would be willing to bet money that you want her too."

As these words emerged, she offered him a sly smirk but watched as he carefully removed the rolled up newspaper from the back pocket of his shorts and tossed it casually across the coffee table. This was the same newspaper that held the picture of Tamara and Willy from the back. His angry gaze darted from the newspaper to her as his next words emerged.

"If that is the case, then what's this bum doing with my girl?" He demanded. It was clear that Neil was a deeply jealous man, and the mere prospect of his seeing Tamara being touched or held by another man made him tremble with rage.

Belinda intended to play that angle for all it was worth.

"That bum is my fiancé and your guess is as good as mine," Belinda said. "It's like I told you last night, she has been flirting with him and I need your help to extract her from my William."

"According to the caption, this would mean that your fiancé is Willy Wonka?" Neil snorted. "You really are crazy, lady. Everyone knows that that guy is more into candy than anything else. Why would he be interested in a crop of nobodies like us."

"Well, that's not your problem now, is it?" She snapped, her indignant question filling the air as she crossed her arms over her chest. This guy is really pushing his luck, she thought hotly, but instead of continuing along the antagonizing manner that she had been on, she took a deep breath.

"Look, Neil, I happen to know that more than anything in the world, you want to win Tamara back. Well, I want Willy Wonka, so if we work together, then we might just be able to insure us getting what we both want. The deal is, you're going to have to listen to me and let me help you with that."

"How?" He asked.

She leaned over and pressed a key into his hand. "Well we have to find her first. Now, this is the key to the apartment, you're welcome to stay until we do find her. It's your option, but the point is, I did tell you the truth last night."

"Do you think I care about having a place to stay?" He asked. "I just want to get Tamara back."

"Well, if you want to get her back, I can tell you that there are four possible places that she could be. The first one we cannot access because it's the factory."

"If Willy Wonka is your fiancé, then we should be able to get into the factory with no problem," Neil said smugly. "That is unless he's not fully aware of your professed 'engagement'."

Belinda took a deep breath, but instead of responding, she began to name off the other places that she knew her roommate frequented. "The other places that she hangs out, besides this apartment, is Hudson's Thrift Store and Bill's Candy Shop. I can handle the thrift store, so why don't you can go case out the candy shop. It's easy to find as it's in the middle of town. It's the only old-fashioned building on of the perimeters of a large open market square."

"Why would she even be hanging out there?" He asked.

"It's like I told you last night, she works there," Belinda said. "What's wrong with your memory, anyway?"

"There is nothing wrong with me," he groused.

"Alright fine there's nothing wrong with you," she said. Of course she could not stop herself from silently adding 'aside from being as stupid as a brick'. "Anyway, it's like I said, Tamara does work there, at least she did before disappearing several days ago. I have no idea where she went, but I do think that between the two of us, we should be able to find her exact whereabouts." She paused. "Could she have gone back to her family?"

"No," Neil said with an adamant shake of his head. "I saw her old man the other day and based on what I could understand, he hadn't seen or heard anything from her in ages." Of course, Neil did not add that he had not actually spoken to Harold Jenkins at all. Instead, he had been using the time and energy to trail him and his family in the hopes that it would shed some light on where Tamara had disappeared off to.

After several seconds, he continued speaking. "OK, Belinda, I'll go check out the candy store. If you turn around and double cross me, then it will be the last thing you ever do." As if to add emphasis to this, he cracked his knuckles and regarded her through angry eyes.

Belinda took a deep breath, her breath catching in her throat. "Why would I even consider doing that?" She purred. "Have you not yet realized that we're on the same side here?"

"Maybe," he grunted. "But, I've dealt with people like you in the past, they don't give a damn about me, they just want what they can get for themselves."

"Isn't that why you're helping me, though?" She asked in her most manipulative voice. "You don't really care that I ensnare Willy Wonka, all you want is Tamara for yourself. Your intentions are the same as mine or need I remind you of that?"

"Somehow, I don't think you ever cared for Wonka, you just want the fame and fortune that comes with snagging that curly-headed weirdo," Neil said.

"It's not about fame or any of that," Belinda said. "I really do love him, and one day you and Tamara are going to dance at our wedding."

I'll believe that when I see it, Neil thought curtly, but instead he nodded and watched as she stood up. He got to his feet and followed her towards the door.

It was blatantly clear to him that nothing that Belinda Hutchinson had said had been remotely truthful. In fact, if he did not know any better, he would assert that the woman was about as a loony tunes as one could get.

Yet, something in her manner made him decide to go ahead and use her as a means in which to find Tamara. Whatever she did, it did not seem to have any pertinence to him or his intentions. All he wanted was to find Tamara and let the two of them return home. He would lock her in his house if he had to. This time, she was not going to run away from him again, not if he had anything else to say about it.

Wordlessly, he stuck the key in his pocket and lightly patted it as the two of them left the apartment. Belinda locked the door and as soon as they had stepped outside, each one of them took off in two different directions; Belinda heading towards the thrift store and Neil going towards Bill's shop.

* * *

As Neil made his way down the street, his eyes were scanning the area for any sign of his former girlfriend. He was not sure if he could believe that Belinda had been telling the truth about being engaged to the reclusive chocolatier. Of course, the moment he had seen the newspaper and then the journal on the sofa, he was convinced that Tamara was in Portsmouth and it was blatantly apparent that she was now getting a bit too cozy with another man.

He took a deep breath, his eyes glazing over as he remembered what he had told her the evening she had dumped him. 'If you fall in love again, I'll bury you', he had said, and it was clear that he meant those words.

Reaching into the pocket, Neil touched the metal of a switchblade knife that rested there. It was more than clear to him as to the options here. Either Tamara comes back to him, or she's dead meat.

There was no room for any further compromise.

To Neil Kirkwood, Tamara Jenkins belonged to him, she was his property. He would make certain that if she was kissing up to Willy Wonka, then it would be the last thing that she would ever do.

It was no secret that he could not stand the prospect of the woman he loved being with someone else. Yet the fact that the person she was schmoozing with was one of the most famous men in the world made his stomach tighten all the more. There was no way for him to compete with someone like that and he knew it.

The only way that he would be able to contend with all of this was through force. He was not afraid of force, he knew a great deal about fighting and he was willing to fight for what he believed was his.

All the same, it was still hard for him to believe that Belinda had actually called him the night before about Tamara. He had been ready to give up on ever finding her again. In fact, he had assumed that she had gone off to London instead of to an even smaller town than the one she had grown up in. In fact, he was shocked that she was even there. After all, this was a place where unemployment was high and the overall essence somehow seemed reminiscent of a retirement community.

Unbeknownst to him, as he was walking down one of the streets, right above his head, the Wonkavator had slowly drifted by. He could not hear or even see that the two passengers were deep in conversation, but they seemed to be heading in the exact same direction…

…And that was to Bill's candy shop.


	34. Chapter 33: Candy Coated Schemers

_Ok, folks, welcome to another chapter of my insanity. I have put more work into this story than I thought was possible. I hope that you will enjoy the benefits of that._

_I wanted to give a thank you shout out to my wonderful, awesome reviewers. Thanks to you all for your continued support._

_La Vik, I'm posting a chapter, now you can (hehehe). I am so loving your story. Here's your cure for the white knuckles, though. Hope that you enjoy this latest installment. And not to worry, Bill is there and he's looking out for both of our heroes. Read on._

_Lysi Marie, sorry the Wonkavator is not here in this chapter, but it will be back, they have to get back to the factory you know. But, read on and enjoy the latest twists and turns of this story._

_iCraft, yes, there are plenty of nuts in this soup, no question, and yes, Neil is a nut-burger with a side order of insanity. I think that he is hard to write because he is a nasty character (and very much like a jealous ex-boyfriend that I used to have). So yeah, creepy._

_Ya Ya, good luck conquering those computer woes. Thanks for the continued support and hope that you enjoy._

_Here's hoping that my earlier readers will jump into the fray and let me know how you're doing. Ajestice, Victory Starr, Jareth's Genevieve, and Hoverbord; I'm missing all of you. Hope that the evil finals monster doesn't keep you all away from us too terribly long. I'm thinking of you all right now and hope you are acing those evil tests. (Imagine this, I'm originally from Texas and never say or type 'you all' as a contraction. How weird is that??)_

_Enjoy and cheers!_

_Oh and Ya Ya, I changed that one part about Bill's mention of breast cancer. I didn't want to make this too comical because I felt that it would take away from the overall action of the story. Neil is not a nice guy, and I didn't want him to say something too terribly funny because I felt that it would take away from the threat that he presents. So I simply went back and reworded Bill's statement about it._

_OK, second edit, I hope everyone's happy, I'm much happier with it, so let me know if you're OK with the new wording. Phew, what I do for my reviewers. ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 33: Candy Coated Schemers**

As Willy and Tamara were arriving at the candy shop, Bill was standing at the counter waiting on customers when the door abruptly opened and a tall man entered. As the door closed loudly behind him, the candy seller watched as he approached the counter and looked at him through impatient and cold hazel colored eyes.

"Where is she?" He snapped, his voice somehow taking Bill by surprise.

"That would depend. Who are you looking for?" The older man asked calmly. The jar of candy that he had been working with was casually returned to the shelf as he slowly turned back around and regarded the man who was standing on the other side of the counter.

If he did not know any better, this man looked as though he was ready to rake one arm across the counter and send all the confections that were displayed there flying. Instead of doing that, however, he took a deep breath and spoke, all the while trying to keep his voice even. "I'm looking for Tamara Jenkins, her roommate said she worked here."

"I'm afraid she's not here today, I gave her some days off to recuperate," Bill said, still the epitome of calmness. "Who's asking?"

"That's not any of your business, pansy boy," the man responded aggressively.

"Well let's just say that I'm making it my business. Aside from that, you stand a far better chance at obtaining my cooperation by being respectful instead of insulting," Bill said firmly. "Now then, to answer your question, the young lady does work here part-time, that means she's not always here."

"Where is she?" He demanded a second time.

"I am not at liberty to disclose that information." He paused as Neil raised one of his arms, but Bill quickly disarmed him with his next words. "I will not put up with bullies and if you so much as break a jar in here, I will file charges against you." He watched as Neil lowered his arm. "Now then, tell me who you are and what you really want. I will not be threatened or talked down to in my own shop. Have I made myself clear, young man?"

"I'm her boyfriend, Neil," he said with a slight grunt. "I have to see her because her family's not doing so well."

"They aren't?" Bill asked, his voice laced in a mixture of disbelief and skepticism.

"No, her father's been sick, and they have been trying to get in touch with her," he said. "They said that he was in the hospital and that he may not come out."

"Oh yeah, what does he have?" Bill asked.

Neil initially said nothing, but eventually spit out the first thought that came to his mind. "Breast cancer."

Bill's eyebrows arched and he looked across the counter at the man. What sort of fool does he take me for? He asked himself. Instead of contemplating this further, he nodded, his expression unreadable. "Her father has breast cancer?" He asked incredulously, but decided to handle this impostor with as much humor as he could muster.

When Neil said nothing else, Bill took a deep breath. "How would it be if when I see her, I tell her you stopped by?" He asked.

"I guess that will have to do," he said as the door in the back opened and closed and the sound of a man calling out Bill's name filtered in through the shop. Upon hearing this, Neil stopped dead in his tracks when he heard what sounded like a woman gasping. "Who's back there?" He demanded.

"I would guess that's the man who was scheduled to deliver some chocolate today."

"Who's that?" He asked. "I heard something back that there sounded like a girl."

"Well, it would seem that he snuck up behind my wife and startled her. I do have other people helping here and not just Tamara." He maintained eye contact with the man, but when no words emerged, he continued. "Did you honestly expect me to work here all by myself?"

Accepting this as an applicable response, Neil walked away from the counter. Once he had left the store, Bill released a pent up breath before going over to lock the door for the lunch hour. What a creep, he thought. Of course, now he was more than determined to find out exactly what was going on. First Belinda and now this guy, he thought suspiciously. What next?

At that moment, he did not have to be an expert on such matters to know that the gasp he had heard had not been from his wife, but instead belonged to his young employee. He returned to the back of the shop and then crept his way into the storage area.

Along one wall, boxes of candies were stacked and he smiled when he recognized that one of the people who was paying him a visit was Willy Wonka. "So what do I owe this unexpected visit, Willy?" He asked, a casual smile now lining his face and replacing the look of agitation that he had carried only a moment ago.

Willy looked at his friend, but smiled as he extended his hand, all the while his attention was diverted to Tamara. "I believe my friend left her purse here."

Instead of being on her feet next to him, the young woman was now cowered against the wall of boxes with her knees pressed up against her chest. Her breathing was ragged and heavy and it was clear that she had heard at least part of the conversation between Bill and Neil before the younger man had left the shop.

Instead of looking towards the frightened woman for an explanation, Bill ultimately took a deep breath as he regarded Willy, an unasked question looming.

"Let me guess, you're wondering what we're doing here?" Willy said almost matter-of-factly. "That is aside from the fact that Tamara was due back at work today."

"That's not as important as knowing that you're both safe," Bill said, but turned and looked at his friend. "What is going on? Why are you two even here?"

"It's a long story," Willy said.

"I've got about an hour before I have to open up again, so give me the shortened version of it," the candy seller said as he approached where Tamara was sitting and extended his hand to her. "It's alright, maybe you should sit somewhere else besides the floor. I heard you were sick and chances are a cold storage room floor is perhaps not the best place for you." As she reached out and accepted his offered hand, he could see that her body was completely trembling as though she was in the midst of having a nervous breakdown.

"My family," she muttered as he helped her to sit down in a nearby chair. "What if Neil's right and my father is sick?"

"Your father's not sick, Tamara," Bill said shaking his head. "He's just trying to dig for information by telling lies, Belinda tried to do the exact same thing several days ago."

"But, what if my father is sick? I should go back," she whispered.

Bill took a deep breath. "I don't know why, but it would seem that the only reason he wants you to go back is so you'll be on his turf."

"It doesn't matter…"

"…Yes, it does," Willy said softly as he looked at Bill. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that Tamara's father was in the hospital and suffering from breast cancer. I don't know much about diseases, but I always thought that only women were at risk."

"Not really," Willy mused, "Men can get breast cancer too, it's just more rare."

"Well, at any rate, the fact that he had the audacity to even mention something like this shows an extreme lack of regard that he has for other people," Bill said solemnly.

"Either that, or he expected you to be about as stupid as a brick," Willy said.

"That's what I was thinking, but it seems perfectly clear that he is grasping at straws. I am almost certain that your family is fine, Tamara, but if you're still not sure, then perhaps you can call them later from the factory and find out what the truth really is."

For his part, Willy looked down at where her face was now resting against his chest. Touching her cheek, he waited until she raised her head and he nodded his head affirmatively.

"But what if he finds out?" She asked.

"He's not going to know about the call until much later. Try and think rationally about this," the chocolatier smiled gently at her as he brushed his hand through her hair. "You know that neither Bill nor myself are going to let Neil hurt you. If he even tries, then he'll have to get through us first."

The young woman nodded, but she raised her head and looked at him. "B-but Willy, I know what happened. Belinda called him and told him I was here, just like the note said."

"I know," he affirmed, but turned and looked at Bill, clearly at a loss.

Bill remained standing where he was, but this time he watched as the chocolatier's hold on his young employee somehow depicted an almost protective intention. He cares for her, the candy seller concluded as he regarded the couple. "You know, if I didn't know any better, it would seem to me that what this girl really needed all along was you and not a half dozen Marshmallow Rounds," Bill said as he touched the top of Tamara's head.

"Perhaps," Willy mused as he looked over at his friend, but instead of drawing away from her, he kept her securely wrapped in his embrace. "What's been happening during the last couple of days around here?" He asked as he watched Bill sat down on the chair opposite where they were now seated.

"Everything that could happen has been happening," Bill said, but abruptly stood up. "That reminds me, I locked your purse up in one of the lockers here. You forgot it when you left here the other day and I wasn't about to give it to either Belinda or Mister Congeniality." He started towards the door leading into a smaller storage room. "I should go get it before I forget." He disappeared into the adjoining room as Tamara looked at Willy.

"I didn't know I was going to do that," she whispered.

"You're frightened, it's completely natural for you to react in such a way," he said. "But, I'm not going anywhere, so could you please retract your claws a little bit? I'm not keen on being your scratching post, my sweet little cat-girl."

Tamara loosened her hold as Bill returned and extended the purse to her.

"Now then," he said, his words indicating that he had been momentarily distracted. Eventually, he looked from Willy to Tamara. "I need to know what is going on. Not just with you two, but also about that fellow who was in here earlier."

The chocolatier nodded. "He's right, we do owe him the truth, Tamara."

She nervously nodded her head, but when her gaze met Bill's, she saw an understanding that seemed to mirror that of the chocolatier.

Instead of asking her anything, Bill took the incentive and began to speak. "I suppose the best place to start is with this newspaper article. It is true that I have been getting more questions from people about Tamara than about the candy I sell."

"What exactly happened?" Willy asked.

"Well, first, a woman who was a bit taller than Tamara with dark hair came by the shop two days ago. She wanted to buy, of all things, as many of your Marshmallow Rounds as she could get her hands on. I noticed that she carried a cloth bag and figured that it was full of the same candy from the other shops here in town. Since, I didn't have very many on stock and my conscience was telling me that I should not go to the back of the shop to look for more, I sold her what I had on the shelf and kept the rest boxed up."

"That sounds acceptable, but what happened next?" Willy asked.

"Well, instead of taking her purchases and leaving, she starts asking me questions about Tamara. First she claims that she is Tamara's friend, and then she lets it slip that she was her roommate. I had seen her around the neighborhood, but it never really clicked until I saw the obsessive manner in which she was packing away the candy." Pausing, Bill continued. "Listen, Tamara, I shared the letter I found in your purse with Willy the other night when I talked to him. I think that since this letter is addressed to him, perhaps he should have it."

When she slowly nodded, he extended the envelope to the chocolatier, and waited for Willy to accept it. Once he was holding it, Bill continued. "I dug through your things to see if there was something you needed."

"Y-you knew where I was?" She whispered.

Bill nodded. "I eventually figured it out and I confronted Willy about it the day I brought your allergy medicine to the factory."

She nodded but watched as Willy continued reading the letter. As soon as he was finished, he shook his head in profound disbelief as he turned to face her. "You are truly extraordinary, my dear."

His attention diverted back to his friend. "I am led to believe that after you spoke to me, that Belinda tried to use any means possible to find out where Tamara was staying and you simply didn't tell her."

"Yes, I figured that Belinda wanted to know more about where Tamara was not, as opposed to where she was. The truth is, I couldn't comprehend any of this, but I can tell you that there are only two people who actually buy the Marshmallow Rounds from me on a regular basis."

"Tamara and Belinda," Willy said with a nod of his head.

"Exactly. I didn't realize any of this until Tamara had spoken to me about what Belinda was doing. During the last few days, I started to pay particular attention and noticed how Belinda had been coming into the shop at oddball times. After we had spoken, I started pondering whether or not Belinda wanted anyone to know about this little project of hers. It seemed almost like some sort of secret."

"You think she wanted to divert the focus from herself back to Tamara?" Willy asked.

"It's possible, but then again, she may not have been thinking about what she was doing at all," Bill said.

"So what you're saying is even if she knew that she was doing something wrong, she simply didn't care," Willy observed.

Bill nodded. "Whatever she did, it somehow diverted the focus away from herself and back to Tamara."

"That worked," Tamara whispered, all the while her head was still lowered. "At the beginning of all of this, you thought I was her."

"I know," the chocolatier said with a nod of his head. "Now we know the truth, but the packages that were delivered to the factory were filled with the wrappers from the Marshmallow Round, but just because you like them does not automatically imply that you were a suspect." He took a deep breath. "I cannot say it enough. I was the one who was wrong, Tamara, not you."

She wordlessly lowered her head, but instead of responding, Bill spoke, his words now addressing her. "I suppose I didn't fully acknowledge the brevity of the situation when we spoke. I do remember that you were pretty frightened, and after witnessing the brainless wonder just now, I can imagine why he scared you." He paused and inhaling slowly, he continued. "I will openly admit that before I spoke to Willy some days ago, I was almost certain that something bad had happened to you."

"Something did happen to her," Willy said weakly. "It's like I told you on the phone, I made a mistake." He reached for her hand. "Of course during the past few days, we discovered the silver lining in my error, but I still cannot forget what I had done to you."

Tamara took a deep breath as she accepted his offered hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. No words emerged from her, but she closed her eyes as the chocolatier began to speak once again. "I suppose the positive thing to come about is that we are friends and we are trying to help each other through this difficult time."

"It looks to be more than just friends if you ask me," Bill observed with a coy smile. Eventually that vanished when he took a deep breath and looked at Tamara, his expression now earnest. "If the traumas with Belinda are not enough, now we have this bloke who calls himself your 'boyfriend' hanging around and making demands. Now, I am guessing that given your present emotional state, he is not your boyfriend at all and you are not overtly thrilled at the prospect of him even being here."

"He's not," Tamara said softly. "He's actually the reason I left Somerdale in the first place." She looked away, her face now etched in shame.

"Has he been stalking you?" Bill asked. "Is that why you wrote Willy the letter in the first place?"

She nodded. "I was too scared to tell you about why I had left. The truth is, I ran away from there because I was afraid that he would find me. I didn't mention it to you because I didn't want you to fire me."

"I wouldn't have done that, Tamara," the candy seller said adamantly.

"I didn't know that," she whispered. "What had happened to me was that I was working at this one job and he was harassing me so much while I was there that my boss started looking for a reason to let me go. The truth is, I need this job and I can't feel comfortable anywhere because Neil's been trailing me since I broke up with him."

"Somehow this doesn't surprise me," Bill mused. "He seems to carry all the markings of an abusive boyfriend."

"That's what I have been able to surmise based entirely on Tamara's words," Willy said. "We figured that he would be back in town because we received a parcel from Belinda that indicated that she had seen the newspaper article. My guess is after that, she sort of freaked out and called this Neil character with the news that Tamara was now my girlfriend."

Bill looked a the young woman and then at his friend. "That may be the only truth to the whole thing," he muttered under his breath. "In all honesty, I don't know what to say except that it is my opinion that the safest place for both of you would be back at the factory."

Willy shook his head. "Perhaps, but why should we have to live like prisoners? We still need to go by her apartment and pick up a few things."

The candy seller looked incredulously at the chocolatier. "Are you insane?" He eventually asked, the question literally piercing the air.

"Perhaps just a little, but then again, you've known me how long?" Willy smirked. "I promised that I would go with her to her apartment and retrieve some of her things. She should not have to walk around dressed in someone else's clothes."

"Maybe you should just take her to a boutique and let her pick some things out," Bill suggested. "If you both face Belinda right now, it would not only be foolish, but it could prove to be dangerous. That woman is serious about you, Willy. She wants the whole 'two story house, picket fence, and two point five kids' deal."

Tamara looked at the chocolatier. "He's right," she whispered. "It was a stupid idea for me to even suggest that we go there."

Willy took a deep breath. "I'm starting to agree with that summation as well, but this is important to you, isn't it?"

"Yes, but so are you," she whispered as she wound her arms around him and held on with all her might. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Instead of responding to these words, he looked at Bill. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest that we trade places," the candy seller said matter-of-factly, a wry smile now shadowing his face. "You work here, and I take Tamara to pick up her stuff."

"Your wife's going to kill you if she finds out you're doing this again," Willy smirked. "You know how she is, Bill. Even I can remember Sylvia and how she was a spitfire in school," Willy said, but watched as Bill loosened the tie that was knotted at his throat.

"Oh she still is, but this is the only option I can think of. If you have a better idea, then I'm all ears," Bill smirked, but looked at Tamara. "You and I are going to your apartment to pick up your things, and Willy is going to stay here and play the great candy seller for the afternoon." He took a deep breath as he looked at her. "You know, that kind of makes me wish that we could stick around for the pandemonium that will no doubt ensue once the afternoon rush gets here."

Tamara wanted to object, but instead she simply stared as Willy wordlessly reached for the tie and began to wind it around his neck.


	35. Chapter 34 Switch A Roo

_Hello and welcome to the latest update of this story. I will probably not get to another update until sometime next week. Things have been rather hectic, and in two weeks we'll be getting ready to go on vacation for a week (so people can get caught up with the reading), so that is the plan here._

_At any rate, here's hoping that you continue to enjoy the story and the twists and turns that happen in it._

_Before I get along with the chapter, thanks to Ya Ya and La Vik for the heads up about the Breast Cancer issue, and yes, I knew that among men it was rare, but somehow I can only plead that my brain got the hiccups or something equally as silly and I made Bill look stupid. At any rate, I changed the part, all the while not wishing to take this issue and make light of it. That is not my way and for the record, I do know of people who had and passed on from this form of cancer. I am quite aware of how devastating it is. So yes, my reviewers were absolutely right, and the original part has been changed in the last chapter, with my sincerest thanks to them for pointing that out. Kudoes to you both._

_Thanks also to Lysi Marie for the wonderful review and here's hoping that you continue to enjoy the latest installment._

_Thanks everyone for the continued support of this particular story. I am grateful to you for the reviews._

* * *

**Chapter 34: Switch-A-Roo**

What seemed like an eternity was more like ten minutes.

Tamara watched as both Bill and Willy rushed around the room trying to get Willy's afternoon alias finished. It seemed to take much longer for the chocolatier to get ready than either of them anticipated.

Once he had affixed the bow tie, he turned his attention to his hair. Using a small glass of water and a thick-toothed comb, he tried to tame down his curly locks. As soon as he was finished, Bill came over and with wet hands, started to pat his friend's hair into place. Soon the chocolatier's hair relaxed against the sides of his head and Bill managed an approving nod.

Although Bill was still dressed in his pin striped shirt, he smiled as he took in his friend's slicked back hair and normal looking black bowtie. As Willy brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, he looked at Bill. "This will never work," he began. "Even if we had my hair cream here, it's a given that my hair simply will not cooperate."

"It has to work," Bill said. "Look at it this way, since you now look relatively normal, I would bet that anyone who comes in here might think that they know you, but it does not necessarily mean that they will. Face it, Willy, with your hair like that, you look as though you might be able to pass yourself off as the next Ken-doll prototype," Bill said laughing.

"Oh very funny," Willy said as he looked over at Tamara who was now sitting off to one side and watching the two of them banter playfully back and forth with one another. Instead of continuing along those lines of conversation, he looked over at her, his gaze set somewhere between playful and intense. "Do I look OK, Tamara?"

"You always look wonderful," she whispered.

"Spoken like a lady in love," Bill muttered under his breath, but eventually turned and looked at Willy. "Alright here's the deal. You know perfectly well that you have no business going to that apartment. You also know that this time, I'm right. Tamara and I will go and once we get back, I think the best place for you both would be back at the factory." He looked at her. "You're off the job until this is over, and once everything gets settled, then we'll talk some more about your hours and what you will be doing. Until Belinda and Neil are off the street, I don't want to see hide nor hair of you around here. I will count on Willy to take care of you and keep you safe from harm."

"I don't like being dependent on anyone, though," she objected.

"I can understand that, Tamara," Bill began. "But, the point is, it's not safe for you here, and it would not be safe for any of our customers to have you working with them out and about. For that reason alone, we'll just call it sick leave until we get those two out of your hair." His gaze was intent as he regarded her, but his next words emerged nonetheless. "You will always have a job here, but you need time, and as luck would have, you have that in one of the most magical places that exist in the world."

Willy nodded but instead of immediately speaking, he simply put his arms around her and looked at her, his eyes silently telling her that what Bill had said had been the absolute truth.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked him, her voice cracking with nervousness.

"I'll be fine, this will be a piece of cake," Willy said confidently. "After all, who knows more about candy than me, right?"

"You know about your candy, but what about that other stuff out there?" She asked nervously.

"Do you remember what I told you when we were coming here?" He asked. When she nodded, he continued. "I've done all of this before, Tamara. Perhaps it was a long time ago and before I even started the factory, but I know how to do it." He smiled gently as Bill handed him a key chain. "Just trust us and know that we know what we're doing."

As he spoke, Willy noticed that she was now looking away, and her lower lip was unconsciously trembling. He reached over and captured her face with both of his hands and spoke, his voice filled with all the gentility he could muster. "Everything is going to be alright, ma chérie."

She nodded as she bit down on her lip. "But, Willy, I'm still scared."

"I know," he said as he leaned towards her and placed his finger once more on her lower lip. When she released it, he smiled gently at her. "Listen to me, my dear. Bill is going to be there with you and he will look out for you during this time. I do trust him and I know that you do as well." Leaning towards her, he gave her a gentle kiss. Drawing back, he looked deeply in her eyes. "Now you better get going. The sooner you go, the sooner you get back."

Tamara nodded as she grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder. Before she reluctantly turned away, she spoke his name. "Willy…"

"…I'll be careful, you do the same," he smiled gently and watched as she followed Bill outside.

Once they were gone and the door had closed, Willy took a deep breath and waited.

After about ten minutes had passed, the hour of one finally struck, thus signifying the end of the lunch break. Casually, he walked over to the front door and unlocked it. Pocketing the key, he returned to the counter. He did not expect too much to happen for the next hour or so. That was when school was scheduled to let out and the children would be coming to the shop for their daily sweets.

Bill had always timed everything to perfection, and this day seemed no different. Several bars were situated on the counter, each one intended for a different child.

Even with everything having been taken care of when Bill and Tamara had been present, he still could not get her out of his mind. They had kissed, and she had told him that she cared. Of course she cared, that seemed obvious in everything she did, but to care for someone and to love them were two different things. He was starting to believe that he did love her and it had nothing to do with how much candy he had eaten.

In fact, that day he had not even consumed a single bite, and yet when he recalled sitting with her in the Wonkavator, his thoughts had somehow managed to send him teetering into dangerous territory.

Now that she was away, there was an emptiness dwelling within him. It was abundantly clear that he feared more for her safety than he did for his own.

Soon, he found himself sitting down on one side of the antique counter that extended from one side of the shop to the other. Resting his elbows against the smooth surface, his thoughts continued to drift.

Throughout the time that he had known Bill, his friend's shop had not changed very much at all. The candy seller had restored the shelves and fixed up the cabinets, but yet, it still remained rustic and unchanged as it had been the day that he had opened it. It was organized in the very same fashion as Willy's had once been. Even the jars of candy, which displayed vast colors and fragrances gave off the welcoming essence that Bill was known for.

Willy rubbed his face with his hands as the door slowly opened and a skinny blonde headed teenage girl entered. This is strange, he thought, school had not yet let out and yet she looks to be about Charlie's age. From his years of knowing Charlie, the chocolatier knew that the boy generally returned to the factory at around three in the afternoon once his last class had been dismissed. At that present moment, it was only several minutes after one.

Wordlessly, the girl came over and sat down some distance away from him, the white colored shirt with the zipper immediately catching his attention. That was either the sweatshirt that Charlie had been wearing the day before or he was vastly mistaken.

He continued to regard the girl, her expression somehow indicative that she was afraid of something. Every so often, she would turn back around and face the door as though frightened that she was being followed.

Eventually, Willy looked at her and spoke, his words soft as they emerged, but filled with kind undertones. "May I help you?"

Instead of immediately responding, the girl dug in her skirt pocket and eventually pulled out and dropped a fist full of coins on the counter. Willy immediately recognized that their sum was perhaps barely even a pound. As they scattered across the counter, he watched as one rolled over and fell right in front of where he was now standing.

Still wordlessly, the girl tried to shove her money together and into a small pile.

Willy watched her, but it seriously looked as though this was all she had. Judging from her skinny frame, she was no doubt from the same poor sectors of town that his apprentice had spent his earlier years in. Taking a deep breath, he went over to one of the shelves and retrieved the jar with the Everlasting Gobstoppers inside. He brought the jar over to the counter and opened it.

"I have something here that I think you might like," he offered cordially as the girl raised her head and stared at the contents through one side of the jar.

"They're pretty, but what are they?" She asked as she stared at the strangely shaped objects inside. "They look like stars."

"Yes, they do, don't they?" He asked with a small smile. "Do you know what they are called?"

She shook her head. "No, I've never seem them before." Of course, she did not add that she had never felt courageous enough to actually enter the shop. Instead she looked down at the pile of copper colored coins that were on the counter.

"These are called 'Everlasting Gobstoppers', and they were created for children who do not have a great deal of pocket money," he said, his words filled with meaning.

She cast a glance down at the counter where her money sat. "It's a nice idea. How much would one cost?"

"I don't know," he said. "Bill didn't tell me and I didn't think to ask."

"You're not Bill. I-I mean; this isn't your shop?" She asked.

"No, Bill's just a friend of mine, he stepped out for a time and is letting me run it for a while," he said honestly, but instead of contemplating what he was doing, he fished out one of the candies and placed it in her hand. "Here, since I don't know how much these cost, you can have one and I'll cover the difference if there is one."

"You don't have to," she objected.

"Why not? You're visiting the shop, you want to buy something, otherwise you wouldn't have pulled out all these coins," he said softly as he started counting out the money. "Let's see how much you have here."

After several minutes of counting, he sighed sadly. This is not very much at all, he thought, but no matter, he would rectify everything with Bill later if there was something that needed tending.

He watched as she stared down at the gobstopper that rested in the palm of her hand. "You're very kind," she said after several moments had passed. She then cast another glance back over towards the door.

Watching these actions, Willy leaned over and rested his hand on her arm. He could feel the tension in her every movement. From the looks of things, the young girl was positively terrified, and this seemed to mirror what Tamara felt just before she and Bill had left the shop.

As his thoughts once again shifted, he hoped more than anything that they were both safe.

Taking a deep breath and trying to dismiss his own agitation, he withdrew his hand and regarded the teenager. "I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?" He asked, his voice somehow breaking into her thoughts.

She turned back around and faced him, her eyes filled with fear. He recalled seeing that same fear in Charlie on the day when the boy and his grandfather had broken one of his rules and had stolen the Fizzy Lifting Drinks.

Inhaling slowly, he searched for the words he wanted to say. "You look frightened," eventually emerged from between his lips.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, the sound of her voice wavering in the stillness of the shop.

Willy looked across the counter at her, all the while his head was shaking from side to side. "You're not fine," he began. "It's obvious that you're terrified."

The girl started to stand up, but Willy rounded the counter and blocked her path before she could leave. With his hand he rested it on her shoulder, the pressure soft. It was clear that he was not going to prevent her from going, as she could have left at any time, but his internal voice was telling him that she was not going to.

She raised her head and looked into the kind blue eyes of the chocolatier. "I don't want to burden you with my problems," she said bravely.

"But, you're here," he said all the while knowing that this young girl was Charlie's friend, and her reactions seemed to mirror that of his apprentice. He wanted to tell her who he was, as well as to confide his trust in her.

After several seconds passed, he spoke again, this time deciding to take a chance and put his presence at risk. "Meagan," he spoke her name and when he saw shock suddenly registering on her face, he continued. "That's your name isn't it?"

She nodded, but started to back away, thus breaking contact with him. "H-how do you know?"

Willy smiled. "You have no reason to be afraid. I know who you are because I'm friends with Charlie Bucket. He told me about what happened outside the factory yesterday and he said that you were very brave."

"W-who are you?" She asked weakly.

"My name is…" he smiled despite his inability to speak his own name without faltering. Eventually he took a deep breath and tried again. "…Meagan, I'm Willy Wonka."

Meagan looked at the man who was standing at the counter and shook her head with disbelief. "That's not possible."

"Yes, it is," he said softly and something in his words conveyed that his words were the truth and that she had no reason to doubt him.

She took a deep breath. "W-what are you doing here? I-I mean, you're a…a recluse. Aren't you?"

Willy ran his hand through his hair, and feeling the dampness, he lowered it once again, a small chuckle emerging despite himself. "Perhaps I am, but tell me something. How else would I know your name?"

"I don't know, but this scares me." She started to back her way off the stool.

"Listen, I know that it's a lot of information for you to process, and I was contemplating not even telling you. Yet, from what I am able to understand, you came in here trying to find some sort of hiding place from the goings on outside," he said. "I simply could not help but notice how you keep looking back towards the door as though expecting some unwanted guest."

She closed her eyes and nodded with defeat. "I cut class. It was because I saw someone who looked like this crazy woman that Charlie and I have been trying to avoid. I got so scared I didn't know what to do, so I just ran away. I always run when I'm afraid."

"Was Belinda Hutchinson the woman you saw, though?" He asked.

"I-I don't know, I guess I wasn't thinking rationally about it," she said honestly. "I just wanted to get away from her."

"I see," he nodded. "And I take it you needed a place to stay until school had officially ended. Once it did, you could return home and your parents wouldn't know that you had, shall we say, played hooky?"

"Yeah," she whispered, as she got off the stool and extended the Gobstopper back to him. "I should go."

"No, you shouldn't," he smiled gently at her. "Listen, I want you keep that, but don't feel as though I'm getting onto you about something. You see, I played hooky plenty of times myself when I was young," he began. "It used to drive my father crazy. But, I think right now, you're doing it for a much more credible reason than I did."

She lowered her head as though acknowledging his words.

Willy took a deep breath as he recalled what Charlie had said about her. His apprentice had been right about her, but while she had pretended to be strong and brave for the sake of his protégé, to the chocolatier, she looked increasingly vulnerable.

"Y-you're not going to tell anyone that I was here, are you?" She asked, thus breaking her silence, but unhidden fear remained.

"No, not as long as you don't tell anyone that I'm here," he chuckled and watched as her expression softened and a tiny smile emerged. "Just try not to worry, Meagan. After all, 'courage is resistance of fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear'."

"I know that one," she smiled slightly. "Mark Twain said it."

He nodded. "That's right, he did."

"So you don't think I'm crazy for being afraid?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, Meagan, I don't. It would seem to me that you have been carrying these burdens around with you these past days and quite frankly, I don't see you as the kind of girl who would simply run away from them."

She closed her eyes. "I usually don't, but this time..." her voice trailed.

"…Because you are afraid and fear sometimes does that to you," he said. "Keep in mind, Mr. Twain was a grown man when he said that and I figure he had lots of time to reach that conclusion. No one should fault you for being afraid. I'm sometimes afraid, too."

"You are?" She asked.

He nodded, "yes, I am."

"I never thought you'd be afraid of anything," she whispered.

"I'm not super-human, Meagan, sometimes I am afraid," he said honestly. "I also realized that when you made the decision to protect Charlie, you also protected me."

"I didn't think about that," she confessed. "I guess it never really crossed my mind."

"Yes, well, now we need someone who will protect you. Is that not so?" As this simple question hung in the air, he watched as she wrapped her arms around herself, the fear cursing through her.

When she did not respond to the question he raised, he continued. "It's alright, Meagan, to feel what you feel is completely OK." He paused and inching his way closer to her, he pulled the teenager into his arms and held her.

Meagan nodded, but said nothing, instead, she allowed herself to sink into the chocolatier's gentle hold. After the embrace loosened, she looked at him. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, but I'm still deeply sorry that you have been dragged into this situation. That was never anyone's intention, least of all mine." He paused. "Did you, at least, tell someone about what had happened?"

"I tried to tell my parents, but they think that I've been watching too many scary movies and dismissed it," she confessed. "Charlie said that this Belinda has been trying to find you."

He nodded. "Yes she has, and for some strange reason, she seems to believe that you could help her in that regard, which perhaps explains why it is she has been following you."

"I wouldn't lead her anywhere, except on a wild goose chase," she said. "I-I mean; it would be wrong." She closed her eyes wanting to say something further, but not finding the courage she did not. Instead, she abruptly felt the tears catching beneath the lids. With the back of her hand, she quickly wiped them away.

"When Bill gets back, we'll arrange to get you home without having Belinda following you," he said as he went around to the other side of the counter and retrieved a Scrumdidlyumptious Bar. Returning to her side, he extended the candy to her and smiled. "This one's on me."

She nodded, but offered a weak smile before accepting the offered candy.


	36. Chapter 35: A Modern Day David & Goliath

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter, and to perhaps one of the biggest cliff-hangers in the entire story. You want release from this, reviews generally do help in that matter._

**_Before you read this chapter, there is some violence here and there are also illusions to adult themes, so do read with discretion. I will not change the rating, as it is no more violent than what you see on prime time television. Please don't ask me to increase the rating, as a T-rating should indicate that this is not a Disney Film._**

_That said, on to my reviewer comments. Thanks bunches to my reviewers._

_Lysi Marie, the vacation will start on June 9, so I am here for a couple more weeks. I will let everyone know when the last chapter before vacation is. Thanks for the good wishes though. You're beginning to hate Belinda? Just wait, you'll despise her by the end of the story. Mwah!_

_La Vik., glad you liked the last chapter, I enjoyed writing Meagan and she was an added bit at the last minute. I didn't have her in the initial drafts, but I thought that since I brought her into the story, that I should use her a few times. I'm glad you like her, I do too._

_Ya Ya, It was fun to bring in the Gobstoppers. I just figured that after three years, Willy would have perfected the formula on this and would have released them through Bill's shop. Besides, Meagan seemed the ideal candidate for one of them._

_ICraft, read on, and thanks for the comments. Tamara and Bill will be the focus on this chapter, but as I said, this is her moment of truth._

_Enjoy everyone, and again, do read with discretion, and review…I do want to break the cliffhanger…eventually._

* * *

**Chapter 35: A Modern Day David and Goliath**

At the same time Willy and Meagan were speaking, Bill and Tamara were walking down the street in the direction of the apartment building where she lived.

Instead of remaining silent, Tamara tried to engage her friend in conversation, but finding the words had proven difficult. It was clear that she did not wish to speak the chocolatier's name while they were out in public. "Has…"

"…William?" Bill arched an eyebrow at her. "That's what I tend to call him when we're out and about. He doesn't like it so much, but that other name seems too much of a dead giveaway as to his identity."

Tamara nodded. "Has William ever done this before?"

"Actually, he has, but it was several years back before the Golden Tickets happened. He mentioned Cherry Street earlier, but the truth is, he pretty much saved my bacon long before that even happened," Bill said honestly. "The truth is, I owe him everything."

"I don't understand, I thought you were just friends," she whispered.

"We are actually more like brothers. Most people don't know the level of our friendship," he said. "There was a time right after Sylvia and I got married that we talked about having kids. We both love children dearly, which perhaps explains why it is I bought the shop and went into this business in the first place. At any rate, all of this happened after Sylvia got pregnant and there were days that I couldn't leave her alone. It didn't matter what time of day it was, she always seemed to be having morning sickness. I felt so guilty having to go to work when I should have just closed the shop and stayed home taking care of her."

"What did William do?" She asked.

"He called me at about the time when all of this was happening, and after that, he offered to run the shop for me during the times while Sylvia was out sick. We really got into devising a costume so that no one would recognize him. Ever since the Golden Ticket tour, everyone pretty much knew who he was. Anyway, I never once questioned why it was he was doing this, but he always came through for me. No matter what it was, he was always a good friend and Tamara, such people as this, are indeed a rarity.

"Anyway, William worked the shop for about two weeks and no one ever figured out who he was. If they thought they knew or suspected something then we would just make up some story that would throw them off. People look and see what they want to see, but they don't always see the truth. Frankly, I don't think they would have believed it even if we had told them who he was. They would probably have wanted some sort of proof before they would accept it."

"Do you remember what you told me in the shop during those times right after I started working for you?" She asked. "I mean; if you want the truth, I don't really know why I even asked about him at all." Self-consciously she lowered her head.

"Perhaps you asked because you were somewhat curious about the factory," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"Maybe, but it struck me after we met how he wasn't a typical industrialist. I mean; he really does care for people, doesn't he?" She asked.

The candy seller nodded. "I'm glad that you have been able to embrace that during these past few days. I know that what initially happened to you was a huge misunderstanding, but he really does care for you, Tamara. I could tell from the way he looked at you back at the shop. I have never heard him call another person 'his darling' before. That's what he said just before we left, but he said it in French. I know what the word means, but I have never heard him using it."

As they got closer to the apartment building, he could tell that she was getting nervous. "It's going to be alright," he said gently.

"Maybe, but it still doesn't stop me from thinking about Belinda. What if she knew about all of this and not just suspected it?" Tamara whispered.

"Then she would be in for a rude awakening," he said as he stopped, but turned to face her, his hands now resting on her shoulders. "Listen to me, do not ever allow people like Belinda or Neil to dictate conditions on the love that you carry towards William. It would be the biggest mistake you could ever make, Tamara. If you truly do love him, and I think you do, then let that give you the strength that you need. Don't ever yield your courage or strength to people who clearly don't deserve it."

"But I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know, and I have come to realize that this fear is not just about the issue of stalking. There is something else in your heart and now you're asking yourself why it all happened so quickly and what it was that William has given to you since the moment the two of you met. I can tell you that what you have given to him far surpasses anything that you can consciously imagine. Just allow him to reciprocate that back to you. After all, it will be through your interdependence on one another that will no doubt bring you both through this experience once and for all."

"Do I really motivate him?" She whispered. "I thought it was just him inspiring me."

"I think you both do that with one another and it's wonderful that he does not have to worry about your motives. He sees you as a beautiful and kind-kindhearted person. This shows when each one of you expresses concern and worry for the other," he said. "I know that it is sometimes very difficult for him to recognize that the person whom he have chosen to care for is truly genuine and real. But I think that with you it's proven very easy for him."

As he finished speaking, they began to walk once again and soon reached the front of the building where she lived. Nervously, Tamara pulled out her key and unlocked the door. Casting a final glance over her shoulder, she entered the building, Bill coming in closely behind her.

They made their way down the hall until they reached the front door to her apartment. As they approached it, the first thing they noticed was that the door was ajar. She peered into the recesses of the apartment only to discover that the entire living room had been turned completely upside down.

Unconsciously, Bill rested his hands protectively on her shoulders but looked down at her. "Who else would be here?" He whispered, his voice filled with some traces of urgency.

"I-I don't know, but we never had the place open like this before," she whispered.

Before they could even enter the apartment and make their way through the living room, someone came down the hallway and into the room.

Tamara gasped as she backed into Bill's hold.

For his part, Bill raised his head to see the same man he had seen at the shop only an hour before standing in the middle of the living room.

This man turned until his gaze had come to rest on them, and his expression shifted to that of a leering grin.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my little Tamara," he began as he came closer to where they were standing.

Tamara, not knowing what to do, backed even further into Bill's protective arms, thus enabling the candy seller to position himself between the man and the frightened young woman.

Standing his ground, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the man. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded. "This is not your apartment."

"Belinda let me in," he said as he came closer and pushed Bill to one side.

Tamara backed up and found herself wedged against the, now opened, door. There was no one between them and Neil reached out and grabbed her wrist and pulled her callously towards him. As she felt herself stumbling into his hold, she found herself pressed against the wall of his chest.

"It's so nice to see you again, baby," Neil said as he brutally began to rub his hand over her hair, the calloused hands causing her to grimace in pain.

Bill watched as she uncomfortably tried to squirm her way out of his hold. The burly man continued what he was doing, and for a split second, it looked as though he was petting her like she was a cat.

"Let go of me," she managed to speak all the while trying to pull herself out of his hold. Her body began to tremble, and the candy seller pondered if it was more from rage than from fear. Regardless, Tamara's struggles continued as Bill started to approach them.

At that moment, unbeknownst to both men, Willy's image suddenly flashed through her mind as she pondered whether or not she would ever see the chocolatier again. She bit down on her lip, and managed to jerk herself completely out of Neil's arms. Finding her voice, she managed to speak, her words emerging in a spray of spit. "I said, let me go!"

"Hey now where did that come from, honey bunch? I thought you finally came to your senses and wanted to come back home with me. After all, no 'Famous Amos' is ever going to see a little church mouse like you as anything more than just a fan," he said with an overconfident leer in his gaze. Reaching out he grabbed her hair and pulled her back over towards him as if she were a bag of feathers.

Tamara began to struggle once again, but having learned from her last escape, Neil tightened his hold, thus making it appear as though she was fighting against iron.

With his hand still gripping her hair, he pulled on it forcing her head back so that he could kiss her. As his wet mouth touched hers, she could suddenly smell the nicotine that laced his breath. Feeling the pressure of his mouth against hers and his hand now holding the back of her head beneath his onslaught, she felt trapped as his mouth ravaged hers. Feeling abruptly sick and without so much as contemplating what she was doing, she bit down on his lip as hard as she could, the bite drawing blood.

This caused Neil to scream out in pain and he abruptly pushed her away from him, her weight teetering back in the direction of the coffee table. Hitting the corner of it, she could feel her body falling over and landing hard on the ground. Looking up at him, she spoke, her voice literally trying to choke back the painful tears. "Get out, Neil!"

As though reacting on instinct alone, Neil started towards her and before Bill could so much as react, he grabbed her arm and managed to roughly pull her to her feet and up against him. "No little two-bit whore is going to get the better of me," he sneered as he started to drag her over towards the sofa.

At that moment, Bill intervened. It was clear that Tamara needed help and if he did not know any better, he figured that Neil intended on raping her right then and there. It was bad enough that Neil had hit Tamara, but to do such a thing was beyond the candy seller's scope of comprehension and at this point he would not hear of it.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke, his words filled with hostility. "Let her go and I mean right now!"

Neil looked at him, his eyes widening in disdain. "Oh, Mister Candy Man, So now you want to join our little party, do you?" His eyes narrowed. "Well buddy, she's mine, you'll have to find your own little girlfriend to amuse yourself."

"This is no party," Bill said hotly. "And even if it was, you've already overstayed your welcome."

By this time, Tamara managed to struggle out from under Neil's hold. She would not let him do to her what he intended, and at that moment, she was so angry that her entire body was trembling. Once on her feet, she looked at him, her eyes blazing. "I'm not your property, Neil. I am a human being."

Neil started to come towards her, his body now larger and more menacing than either of them could have anticipated. Instead of stopping to think about what she was doing, she hauled back and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could.

This action completely took him by surprise and he staggered about until he was able to maintain his footing. Angrily, he drew back and slapped her hard across the face with the back of his hand. This left her stumbling backwards from the blow. Before she could so much as say a word, he spoke. "You bitch, I'll teach you some manners."

Instead of immediately responding, Tamara lightly touched her cheek. After several seconds of silence had descended on the room, she raised her head. "I never want to see you again. For once and for all, leave me alone! I don't want you in my life and I don't want you around my family. I will not be bullied anymore by the likes of you. Get out of my house or by God someone is going to carry you out of here on a stretcher." Instead of looking away or allowing her shy insecurity to get the better of her, she regarded the man with absolute fury in her gaze. It was as though she knew beyond any doubt that there was no way any man would ever get away with hitting her.

Bill felt a wave of pride wash over him as he listened to her words. He had never seen her this assertive before, and he knew that when the time had come for her to react, she was not afraid to. Of course, he knew from looking at Neil that this was far from over.

Instead of retreating, Neil started to walk towards her yet again. "I'll believe that line when hell freezes over," he growled.

Despite her best intentions, Tamara backed her way towards the wall.

"Stand your ground, Tamara." This time the words emerged from Bill. "Don't back up, just keep standing your ground against him. He gets more power when you give yours over to him."

Ignoring Bill's words, Neil came even closer to where she was standing, his eyes literally bulging. "Do you think for even a second that someone like Willy Wonka is going to be remotely interested in you? Your nothing more than a church mouse, Tamara, and to some bigwig like that, you'll never amount to anything more."

Tamara took a deep breath. "That's none of your business, Neil. But, if you think even for a moment that you are the only option I have, then you have another think coming. I did not leave Somerdale because I wanted to, I left to get away from you. And right now, for the first time in my life, I'm choosing to stay here because that's what I want. Maybe those reasons are Willy Wonka, and maybe they aren't, but they certainly are not because of you. The most important thing for me to do is to tell you that I can get along just fine without you and I don't have to be afraid anymore. If you so much as lay another finger on me, then I will go to the police and have them cart you away to a prison cell so fast that you won't even know what hit."

"You're bluffing, and I don't have time for this," he sneered as he pulled a switchblade knife from his pocket and flipped up the blade.

She watched wide-eyed as the knife now glimmered in the light. "You remember what I said when you left. If you don't recall, then I'll refresh your memory because I distinctly said that if you so much as look at another guy, I would bury you…Looks like that's what I'm going to have to do."

Tamara swallowed as she cast a terrified look at Bill.


	37. Chapter 36: Bill's Secret

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. I had intended on breaking you all of the cliff hanger on Wednesday, but life got suddenly insane here, and I wasn't able to do much of anything. This afternoon, I have to work on the next chapter of the other story, but I may take a break and get to that before we leave for holiday on the 8th__._

_Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers. It's you guys who keep these chapters coming as quickly as they do. I so enjoy your words and encouragement and hope that you will continue to read, review, and enjoy._

_Lysi Marie, I'm glad that Tamara is getting the cheers. She is definitely a nice original character and deserving of them. And Bill, I always liked him, so this is a fun bit for me to write with him, specifically since we don't really know much about the character, and it leaves room to expound a bit._

_Ya Ya, yes, Neil and Belinda are hardly the types of people to joke about, and they do exist. Both characters were inspired by people that I have known in my life, although perhaps not as dangerous, but still with those tendencies, and that's pretty dang scary when you stop and think about it. The manipulative nature of both gives me the shivers._

_iCraft, Here's hoping that you are still alive and well, I would never wish to be the one that causes death by suspense. OK, maybe I did wait a bit too long to break the cliff hanger, but here's hoping that you enjoy what comes up nonetheless._

_La Vik., wow, I broke you of your writer's block (maybe). That is really too cool, but I am waiting patiently for your next chapter, so hopefully that helps to motivate your writing. You totally rock, and yes, like with iCraft, I would not want to be the cause of your death by suspense._

_Speaking of which, it continues, but Bill's got a few surprises up his sleeve. Enjoy and please review._

* * *

**Chapter 36: Bill's Secret**

At that precise moment, everything started to happen as though in slow motion. Tamara watched as Bill suddenly swung around, his foot hitting against Neil's hand and the knife abruptly flying out of his grasp and landing with a thud on the floor.

Tamara cowered away, but continued to watch in stunned silence as her boss and friend disarmed her stalker. It happened with the very same ease Bill would use whenever filling jars of candy back at the shop.

Instead of acknowledging her shock, Bill looked over at the stunned man, his expression glowering. For his part, Neil was staring in stunned silence into the far corner of the room where his knife lay dormant on the floor.

The silence was abruptly shattered when Bill spoke. "She has spoken her peace, Neil, and you are not going to lay so much as a finger on her if I have anything to say about it."

"Ooh, like I'm really scared," Neil said tersely, but instead of heeding Bill's words, he started inching his way towards the knife.

At that moment, Bill turned and looked at Tamara, thus bringing her completely out of her shock. "I want you to go back to your room, lock yourself in, call the police, and tell them exactly what has happened here," he instructed.

"W-what about you?" She whispered.

"Leave everything else to me," Bill said with traces of matter-of-fact undertones in his words. "He's not going to hurt me."

Tamara nodded and trusting her friend's words, she fled from the room.

Seconds later, her bedroom door slammed and Neil stood staring off in the direction that she had gone in. Several moments later, his attention once more diverted back to the knife and thinking he would not need it, he started to follow her.

Bill's voice abruptly made him stop.

"It would seem to me that you have one of two options here, and neither of them are all that appealing. You could try to leave, but then we'll just have to tell the police that you fled the scene after you tried to murder your ex-girlfriend. I should perhaps remind you that if you choose that option, then I will have no choice but to report your actions at the shop as well as the lies you told about Tamara Jenkins' father as a means of getting me to help you find her."

"What's the other option?" Neil asked with an evil glare.

"I take you out; right here, right now," Bill said without so much as a blink of an eye.

"_You_ take me out?" Neil asked with a smirk. "Now that's what I call funny. You're a scrawny thing, Mister Candy Man. That trick with the knife was just a lucky move on your part. I doubt you could repeat it, even if you wanted to."

"Well, if that is the case, then I suppose you have nothing to worry about, do you?" Bill asked evenly.

Neil started out of the room, with the intention of going down the hall to Tamara's room, but after several seconds, Bill spoke. "What do you intend to do with her? Kidnap her and force her to date you? Or did you intend on trying to rape her again? That was what you were going to do had I not gotten involved." He went over and casually picked up the journal that had been cast to one side of the sofa.

He flipped through the pages of it, reading excerpts out of it and after several moments had passed, he closed it before lightly tapping his fingers against it. "It would seem to me that Tamara has been through hell and back with the likes of you."

Neil stared towards the hallway. "I only did what I did because I love her and I didn't want to lose her."

"But you did lose her," Bill began. "Your twisted and demented definitions of love, as well as your jealousy and fear is what caused it to happen in the first place, Neil."

"I love her," he whispered.

"Love?" Bill shook his head. "You struck her in rage, you frightened her family, you told me lies about her father, and you break into her apartment. You call that 'love'?"

"I didn't break in," Neil objected. "Belinda let me in, she even gave me a key."

"Well then you show up in a place where you are clearly not wanted. You're stalking Tamara and trying to force her to feel something that she obviously doesn't feel. That is never going to win her affections. She doesn't even look at you in the loving way a girlfriend would regard a boyfriend. She looks as though she is scared of you, and perhaps for a very good reason; you just tried to murder her in cold blood."

"I wasn't going to kill her," Neil objected. "I was just upset and only wanted to teach her a lesson."

"A lesson, and what might that lesson be? Threatening to 'bury her' because she doesn't want anything to do with you or because she's trying to move on with her life?" Bill asked suspiciously. "Perhaps the problem does not lie with her at all, but instead with you. You have made it perfectly clear that no one is supposed to leave or hurt you. Yet, you know this is not her needing you, it's you needing her. She can find another man who loves and treats her as a lady should be treated. You try to break her down by telling her that you're the best she'll ever do.

"Well, I think it is crystal clear that you're the one who can't find someone new. You're the one with self-image issues, not her. That's probably what scared you after she ended the relationship. You knew that there was no one else who would put up with your violent nature or your jealousy, so you tried to force it on her."

"But she's going after that other girl's fiancé," Neil objected.

"That other girl _has_ no fiancé," Bill said sternly. "The only reason Belinda even called you was to use you to get Tamara out of the picture. With her roommate gone, Belinda could pursue Willy Wonka for herself without any sort of competition. It didn't matter that half of what she told you was fabricated nonsense. If Belinda had actually realized how absurd she's been behaving, she might actually have come to some sort of realization that it was her actions that catalyzed all of this insanity in the first place."

"You mean Tamara and Willy Wonka are together?" Neil asked.

"I didn't say that, you did," Bill said emphatically. "I merely said that they are friends and whatever it is you believe about their friendship, is strictly your problem."

Neil started to back away from them, the anger suddenly washing over his face. "Tamara…" he shouted so loudly that it was abundantly clear that Neil was about to lose himself in rage. He started to back his way towards the knife, but within seconds, the stalker found himself sprawled out and unconscious on the floor like a freshly felled tree.

Bill nodded slowly as he bowed towards his opponent, a smirk now lining his face. "Yes Sansei, I still have it."

* * *

After making certain that it was safe for him to do so, Bill left Neil's side and went down the hall in the direction of Tamara's bedroom.

Reaching it, and just before knocking, he could not help but recall the story of 'David and Goliath' that he had heard so often during his youth. It was strange how the little guy had won out against the insurmountable bully, yet, that was precisely what had happened.

All the same, to the candy seller, it was not so much his victory inasmuch as it was Tamara's. She had somehow found the courage to stand up for herself. He also knew that in doing that, she had no idea that he was a brown belt in karate. This had come about when his parents had let him take karate lessons during his teenage years.

It was strange that he never had to use it outside of class until that day. Now, as he came down from his adrenaline rush, he was monumentally surprised that it had actually worked against someone who was considerably bigger and stronger than he was.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped lightly on her closed door. "Tamara, you can open the door now, it's only me."

Slowly the door opened and he watched as she emerged from the room, her expression filled with sadness and exhaustion. He could not ascertain why that was the case, but peering into the room, he could somehow understand her pain. It was evident that everything that the young woman valued had pretty much been destroyed.

"What happened to your room?" He asked softly, all the while knowing what the answer was going to be. Instead, he waited for her to affirm what his inner voice was now telling him.

"Belinda destroyed everything," she whispered as she bit down on her lip. "There's nothing left, Bill." As these words emerged, he could tell that all she wanted was to see Willy again and return to the sanctuary of the factory. "It was a mistake for me to think that there would be something left. I mean; something that is not locked in a safe or a private drawer."

"It really looks as though a tornado hit," he mumbled under his breath as he watched her walking slowly towards the door.

Once she had stepped out into the hallway, he started to follow her out of the room. Seconds later, he heard her gasp and rushed down the hall and into the living room.

Tamara was standing about a meter from where Neil lay, her hands covering her face and her eyes as wide as saucers. As soon as he had come into the room, she turned around and faced him. "Bill?" She whispered his name. "H-how?"

The candy seller shrugged his shoulders, his expression unchanging. "Did you call the police?" He asked. It was clear that the subject of his inquiry was a useless attempt at trying to divert the focus away from himself and back onto the problem at hand. He knew that eventually he would have to offer her an honest answer anyway.

"Y-yes, I did, b-but what happened?" She asked.

"He tried to leave the room in order to harass you some more, and I…well, I let him have it," he smiled mischievously.

"Y-you let him have it?" She simply repeated his words. "He's the size of a bull in a china shop. How could you let him have it?"

"That has to do with something you don't know yet."

"What don't I know?" She asked as she cast a nervous glance towards Neil.

Bill took a deep breath, but offered her a boyish grin. "Well, among other things, I've been studying karate since I was a teenager." He paused, but after a second had passed, this disappeared and he regarded her earnestly. "Listen, before we do anything else, we're going to wait for the police to get here. Once they arrive, you're going to file charges against this guy for attempted murder, attempted rape, and stalking. This should put him away for a nice long stir."

"Then we can just give them that book," she said softly motioning towards the journal that now lay on the floor next to Neil's body. "It has everything that Neil's ever done to me written inside."

Bill picked it up before extending it to her. Once she had accepted it, he took a deep breath and spoke. "You know, it was really good of you to stand your ground against him. He needed to hear these words from you and not from a psychologist or a policeperson. If anything, then perhaps, that might make him realize that his actions were wrong."

"I don't know," she whispered despairingly as she shook her head. "H-he was going to kill me."

"That's what you're going to have to tell the police," he said. "Tamara, when I told you to stand your ground, I had no idea what you were going to say to him."

"I didn't know if I could, I was so scared," she confessed.

"Yes, I could tell, but how did you manage to find the courage to say those things to him in the first place?"

"I-I couldn't really remember very much except that I saw an image in my mind as Neil was coming towards me," she whispered. "I kept asking myself what would have happened if I never saw Willy again. I suppose I kept contemplating what I would do if I didn't get the chance to say 'good-bye'. I mean; all of this would have been for nothing, and I would have died a coward."

"You're not a coward," he said gently. "You're very brave. I don't know how much you remember, but I do know that although it was scary, you held yourself together very well."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Everything just happened so quickly. If you hadn't have been here, Neil would have probably killed me."

He came over and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You know now that you do have friends here. You can make the decision to leave or to stay, and whatever it is you decide, we're going to support you."

"I want to stay," she said softly as a small smile broke through, and she felt as though she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

"It would be nice for all of us if you were to stay," he said nodding. "You know that you will be able to go back to your family when the time feels right and you have no reason to be afraid of what might happen."

"You do understand," she whispered.

"More than you know, my friend," Bill said. "But, one thing is perfectly clear, you can do the things that you want without having his shadow lurking over you."

"Even before we talked about it, you knew what was happening, didn't you?" She asked.

"I suspected that something was going on with you when you told me about Belinda's strange behavior. Most people would not have reacted as emotionally as you did," he said as he reached over, took her arm gently in his hold, and started to steer her back in the direction of her bedroom. "Let's go back and see what we can find for you to take with you."

"There's not much left," she said softly as she looked at her friend. "Belinda trashed the entire room. Even my clothes are destroyed."

"She probably figured that this was one of the only means she had available to scare you away," he said.

Tamara nodded and the two of them walked down the hall to her room. As they entered, Bill was able to take in even more of the chaos while Tamara walked over to the closet and pulled the door open.

As soon as she did, he could see that the closet was in complete shambles, the clothing torn and shredded beyond repair. In the back corner of it, Tamara retrieved a small metal safe and pulled it out. This, she extended to him. "It seems that this and my locked dresser are the only things that are left," she said. "Belinda ruined everything else."

She opened the drawers where the rest of her clothes were kept. These too were completely shredded. Reaching into the side pocket of her purse, she pulled a small key from the side pocket, opened it to reveal another locked cabinet.

Opening this, she searched the depths of it and smiled slightly. "I need a bag," she whispered.

Bill nodded and after scrounging around the room for several minutes, he recovered a cheap clothing bag sticking out from beneath one side of the bed.

Once he had handed this to her, she opened it and dumped all of the valuables inside. Bill watched as several stuffed animals and other small mementos were moved into it before she zipped it closed. "We can go now," she whispered after a few moments had passed. "I want to be out of here before Belinda comes back or Neil comes to."

"We still have to wait for the police," Bill said simply, but as if on cue, they suddenly heard the sound of voices emerging from the other room. "That must be them."

Tamara nodded as they wordlessly left the room and made their way back down the hall in the direction of the living room.


	38. Chapter 37: How the Mighty Fall

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment to this story. Here's the deal, because the review numbers have gone down, this is probably the last installment that you folks will be getting for two weeks. I haven't got problems with the reviews at all, in fact, I am glad that you guys are still interested in this story, but since we are leaving to go on holiday come Sunday, this is probably going to be the last update for the next two weeks._

_I will be putting some work into In Another's Eyes this week and hopefully I can get that update put in here too._

_Thanks bunches to Lysi-Marie, YaYa and iCraft for the reviews. I really appreciate your support with all of this. Sorry this update is rather short, but I hope that you will enjoy it nonetheless._

_Please review. Oh and for the record, I am not all that great with police procedures, I just know what happened when I had to file a report with the police some 15 years ago. So, please bear with me. I also know that normally the crime scenes that are described here are generally when there's been a murder or something serious going down. For the sake and the flow of this particular story, I decided to go a tiny bit 'Police AU' on this and opted to take a tiny creative liberty as opposed to changing everything about. Please don't tell me that it's unrealistic, because I hope that this gets clarified through the dialogue in the story. This is done for a couple of future Belinda chapters, btw, so it will be clarified later as to why it's even present, but hopefully all is forgiven with this. ;) Thanks for understanding._

_Wonkas-Dementia, I changed the know to knows. Thanks for the heads up. :)_

_Victory Starr, I fixed the place you noted, as well as another typo. Thanks for letting me know._

* * *

**Chapter 37: How the Mighty Fall**

As Bill and Tamara came out into the room, the first thing that happened was relief washed over the two of them at the sight of the dark blue colored uniforms of the male and female officers. One was standing looking over Neil's body, while the other had collected the knife that was on the floor.

"Are you the young lady who called to report a break-in?" The female officer asked.

Tamara dully nodded.

"My name is Karen Fields, this is my partner, Justin Owens," she said as she flashed her badge in front of Tamara's nose. Her partner did the same before the badges once again disappeared into the pockets of the two strangers. At that moment, relief washed over them. They were now safe and that the police were taking charge of the situation.

"M-my name is Tamara Jenkins and I live here, at least…" her voice trailed off as she looked to Bill for help.

"Are you the young lady's boyfriend?" Officer Owens asked taking in the man sprawled out on the living room floor. "Can we conclude that this is another domestic issue?"

"In some ways it is, but no I am not Tamara's boyfriend. I'm just a friend of hers. She works part-time at my candy store in town," Bill responded. "My name is William Peterson and I found out today that that man on the floor has been stalking her for several months now."

"Stalking?" The female officer asked, her gaze now on Tamara.

Tamara nodded. "I want to file charges against him. His name is Neil Kirkwood and he used to be my boyfriend, but I broke up with him. After I did, he started…stalking me. I ran away from Somerdale to get away from him. Today, he found me here and…" her voice trailed off and she had to swallow several time before she could continue. "…H-he tried to rape me, and then he pulled a knife, and was going to kill me. If it weren't for Bill, then he probably would have."

"You said that you left Somerdale because of him. Was he doing this sort of thing to you there as well?" Officer Fields asked.

"Yes," she whispered with an affirmative nod of her head.

"How did he find you?" Officer Owens asked.

"Belinda Hutchinson called him, probably because she obsesses about Willy Wonka and thinks that I am dating him," Tamara said.

"She thinks you're dating Willy Wonka?" The policewoman asked skeptically.

"It may sound strange to you, but it's no joke," Bill said. "Ever since that news article appeared about Willy Wonka having found love, things have been going completely insane for Tamara. Both Belinda and this Neil character have shown up at my shop asking some pretty obscure questions and making demands about the people who work for me. This was all during the time when Tamara had not been present at the shop. On top of that, Neil comes in, says that Tamara's father is in the hospital suffering from breast cancer."

The two officers exchanged bemused expressions, but Fields was first to recover. "I see," she said, her words simple.

Instead of elaborating on what he had said, she pulled several pieces of paper out of the leather bound notebook she carried. These, she extended to Tamara. "You know we cannot do anything to your roommate at the moment, unless Mr. Wonka was to take it upon himself to file stalking charges against her."

"What about Tamara's belongings?" Bill asked. "Her room is completely in shambles."

Owens looked at the two of them. "We can't do much about your room, either, I'm afraid. You can file a 'destruction of private property' claim with us, but this is entirely your word against hers. I would suggest first we take care of your charges against Mr. Kirkwood."

Tamara nodded as the policeman motioned towards the sofa and she went over and sat down. Once she was comfortable, the woman handed her a ballpoint pen. "Now, here's what you have to do. Go ahead and fill out this form, and write whatever happened between you and this suspect today. Between that and this book, perhaps we can work to put this nightmare behind you once and for all. Whatever you write here, if you make a mistake, put a single line through it and initial it. That way no one can accuse you or us of falsifying the information on this statement."

Tamara nodded and watched as she handed a similar form to Bill. "You need to do the very same thing since you're a witness to everything."

Bill nodded, and while they were writing out the series of events, Officer Owens proceeded to wake up Neil. Once the irate man realized what had happened, the policeman literally had to stronghold him before leading him out of the apartment. Once they were gone, Tamara released a pent of sigh. The one thing that kept her calm throughout all of this was the simple fact that Officer Fields was still seated across the room from them.

* * *

Forty minutes later, Tamara signed the document and handed the policewoman the outline of what had happened that afternoon. Through a great many tears, she managed to write down everything she could remember, but upon finishing, she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to return to her 'Rainbow Light' room at the factory and relax.

Once she retrieved her belongings, she looked at Bill. "Will you take me back now, please?" She whispered, her voice laced with a mixture between panic and fatigue.

The candy seller nodded and looked at the police. "Is that all you need from us?"

The officers nodded. "We will be making this a crime scene and checking for evidence before we go. It's not generally done in open and shut cases, as this appears to be, but since you still feel as though your roommate poses a threat, perhaps it would be advisable for us to have a look around," Owens said.

"You'll probably find a plethora of interesting things in Tamara's room," Bill said casually as they started towards the front door.

"We'll be checking there, Miss Jenkins," Fields said. "You take care of yourself. Is there anyplace where we can reach you if any new evidence turns up?"

"You can contact her through my candy shop," Bill said. "The number there is on my statement."

Nodding, the policewoman let the two of them pass.

Once they had both stepped outside, Tamara looked over at Bill. "William?" She asked. "Your name is William, too?"

"Yes, most guys named William actually have used the name Bill now and again as a shortened form of their given name. In fact, back when we were in school, we were known as Willy and Billy," he said smiling. "After several years had passed, his name stuck, and I changed Billy to Bill when I opened the candy store."

"It's strange," she mused.

"The name game?" He asked.

"That, and the fact that I never thought I would feel so relived to know that Neil's no longer going to be a threat to me. It feels sort of like I'm free, but..."

"…You know that Willy's challenge still lies before him, and that affects you," he said with understanding in his voice. "You also know too that the feeling of no longer being in danger is a huge burden to be lifted."

"But it's not over yet," she whispered. "No matter what Neil would have done, we still have to contend with Belinda. I had hoped that they would be able to arrest her for destroying my stuff, but they couldn't."

"Yes, I know," he said. "And right now William is going to need your support."

"I just wish I could do something to help him through all of this," she whispered. "I saw the stuff that Belinda sent and it was just too horrible to be real. There were pictures cut to pieces and even places where she had put the letter 'x' over his eyes as though he was dead. It's a horrible situation, and I don't know how to deal with it anymore. I know that it hurts him and he tries to be strong because of me, but now with this behind me, I don't know how things will be with him."

"None of us do, Tamara," Bill said simply. "But I think he does love you."

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'll believe that when I hear him say it himself," she whispered. "I don't know if I can believe that he could love someone like me."

"Why wouldn't he?" Bill asked firmly. When she did not respond, he continued speaking, his voice filled with assertive undertones. "Listen to me, Tamara, I know him rather well, and I can tell you that he really does care for you. I know that he would do whatever he could to help you, not because of obligation or even guilt. He would do it because he cannot fathom not doing it. The point is, William is going to need you to be strong while he contends with his part of this."

"Am I able to do that, though?" She asked. "I sometimes think I'm completely falling apart."

"I know, but after seeing how you handled Neil back at the apartment, I think you have more strength than you believe," he said smiling. "With the two of you together, the problems you face may not seem to be as vast as you think."

Instead of arguing the point, they walked in silence back in the direction of the candy store. As they reached the front door, they abruptly stopped and Tamara backed away and concealed herself in the shadows.

Coming up the street and walking directly towards them, was Belinda. She carried what looked to be a white colored dress draped over her arms as well as a cloth bag, which Tamara immediately figured was full of Marshmallow Rounds.

Instead of spotting or even acknowledging them, Belinda simply walked straight towards the front of Bill's shop as though she was a woman on a mission.

"Oh my God! Bill, that's Belinda," Tamara whispered as her face took on a pasty white color.

"I sort of figured," the candy seller said. "And it looks as though it's too late for either of us to do anything about it, she's going to get inside before we do. We will have to go in through the back, but I would be willing to bet money that William is about to come face to face with his tormentor." He paused as he looked at her. "The irony of it is, while he may recognize her, I don't think for even an instant that she is going to recognize being waited on by the object of her affections."

"Just tell me that he at least knows karate," She whispered.

Bill chuckled. "No, but he's capable of taking care of himself, just trust me on that. All the same, I think we should get inside in case she changes her mind and comes out to find us having a 'meeting of the minds' here on the sidewalk."

Tamara nodded, but her eyes seemed to be plastered on Belinda as she calmly entered the candy store.

Wordlessly, Bill led her to the backdoor and the two of them slipped unobserved into the back room of the shop. Once he had closed and locked the door, he and Tamara headed straight for the doorway that led out into the shop. With their ears pressed up against the door, they listened to the activities going on out in the shop.


	39. Chapter 38: An Eerie Confrontation

_Yay, I'm back. Did you miss me? No? Yes? Was she really gone? ;)_

_OK, but seriously, welcome back to the next fun filled chapter of JaSoS. Yes, I have actually started to abbreviate my story titles…specially the long ones. I wonder if Mary Poppins ever had that idea? Oh well._

_Oodles of thanks to my wonderful awesome and inspiring reviewers. You guys so totally rock! Sorry that I didn't get as much writing in as I had planned to, between flying over the beautiful Czech countryside and getting massages, 'there was so much time so little to do…uh, strike that, reverse it. Thank you.'_

_Lysi-Marie, I do not know, CSI, although my best friend is trying to get me to watch NCSI, and I've been lazy. ;) I didn't know that there was a character somewhere else with the name William Peterson. I just picked something out of a hat and that was it. I have a cousin named Bill, and his given name is William. I thought it was just a funny little ditty. So, you got me there._

_Wonkas-Dementia, thanks for the heads up, the correction's been made, and my appreciation to you for catching that is also there. ;)_

_YA-YA, yes, I love the Willy and Billy anecdote. I think it was you who mentioned the whole William thing, or was it another reviewer, but that was a fun bit to add. _

_ICraft, my apologies for taking a holiday and not updating, but everyone needs to have the batteries recharged, mine came in the form of a massage and wellness stuff. Lovely. But, I should be getting the next chapters up a bit faster. Sorry for the wait._

_MrsKiLupinDarcy, thanks for the review, and for letting me know what you think. I'm really glad you're enjoying this. I've been having a fun time writing it._

_OK, with that, here's the next chapter, enjoy, but please review._

* * *

**Chapter 38: An Eerie Confrontation**

Meagan was still seated on the stool when the door opened and Belinda entered the shop. She turned her head only slightly, but when she recognized Willy Wonka's stalker coming towards the counter, she could feel her breath catching in her throat.

Belinda seemed not to notice Meagan's apprehension, but Willy clearly did. He watched as the teenager's face took on an almost pasty white color and instead of speaking of this, he reached across the counter and touched her hand.

When she raised her head, he moved his hand and touched his lips with his finger, thus indicating that she remain quiet. She nodded all the while accepting that he knew better than she did about what it was they should do. Wordlessly, she watched as Belinda literally swept over to a stool before casting her beige colored cloth bag lackadaisically on the floor. Digging around inside of her purse to retrieve a leather pocketbook, she seated herself.

Distracting his attention from the teenager, Willy, confidently approached where Belinda sat. As he reached her, he somehow felt as though he was being protected by the counter that was between them. "May I help you?" He asked cordially. It was clear to Meagan that Willy knew exactly who he was dealing with.

As he waited for Belinda to respond, he made a sign to the teenager indicating that she make herself scarce.

Understanding this silent communication, the teenager nodded as she slowly got off the stool and inched her way from the counter back over towards the front door.

Just as she was about to reach out and touch the door handle, she turned back around and her gaze met that of Willy Wonka. When he slowly offered her a single nod, she turned back around before reaching out in order to open the door.

Before she could so much as touch the door handle, it abruptly swung open, and about two dozen children spilled into the candy shop like water being poured from a cup. Time stood still for her as the shop was suddenly filled with their happy, but loud, chatter.

As Willy opened his mouth to speak, no words emerged. In fact, his vast vocabulary seemed to be failing him at that particular moment. He started to walk away from Belinda and over towards the throng of customers when the woman's voice emerged, the cadence of it etched in attitude. It was as though she was silently saying: 'I've been here longer, you have to wait on me first'.

"Have you got some of Wonka's Marshmallow Rounds?" She asked over the ruckus of the excited voices that filled the room.

Willy grimaced as her inquiry filled his healthy ear. If he had not known who she was before the question had emerged, then he most certainly did now. The chocolatier turned away from the counter, his eyes now scanning the shelves for her requested candy. Finding none, he somehow welcomed the distraction by one of the girls who was waiting for her daily candy bar and had loudly called out to him.

"Hey Mister, where's Bill?" She asked.

He turned away from the candy display and looked at her. "He's running an errand, I'm just helping him out today."

"But he always has my Sizzler ready when we come," she objected.

"Yeah, June-Marie's right," the boy named Christopher answered. "We've been coming here after school for the last four years, and Bill always has my Triple Cream Cup nearby because he knows it's my favorite."

Willy nodded as he reached for June-Marie's Slugworth Sizzler bar. Forcing a smile, he handed the candy to her. He then took a deep breath before looking at Belinda. "Let me take care of the kids and then I'll see about the Marshmallow Rounds, OK?" Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and looked at Meagan. "How much do you know about candy?"

"I know what I like," Meagan said shrugging her shoulders. She did not add that the last time she had actually been able to afford a candy bar was several months back. No sense in giving him a reason to feel sorry for her, she thought as she waited for him to respond.

"That's good enough for me," Willy said. "Would you mind helping me with these orders?" As he spoke, his blue eyes were now practically pleading with her to assist him. He was out of practice with the running of a candy store, and while he loved kids, they were rather like medicine, too many at once would do far more harm on his nerves than good.

Meagan nodded, a tiny smile abruptly lining her otherwise frightened face. "Sure, I mean, if you think I can help without botching things up." She approached the counter to feel Willy grabbing her hand and pulling her behind it.

"You're going to do fine," he said encouragingly.

Nodding, she turned away and began to wait on her first customer.

As seconds turned into minutes, she watched as Willy's demeanor shifted and he became ringmaster of the circus called 'Bill's Candy Store Rush'. Meagan found herself becoming amused by the fact that Belinda was being ignored while she and Willy tried diligently to get the children's orders tended to.

"Alright kids," he eventually called out. It was right after one of the older boys grew impatient and started harassing Meagan about being too slow. "Try and be patient with her, she's brand new, you might say, she just started today. You all know how it is to be brand new at something. You're not always quick, but you do try." He looked at the teenager and gave her one of his brightest and most encouraging smiles. "Just have fun with this," He said as he handed one of the other boys a regular Wonka bar.

Meagan nodded, but after ten minutes had passed and all the children seemed to have what they wanted, she found herself leaning up against the wall and taking a deep breath. She watched as Willy went over to where Belinda was practically sandwiched up against one side of the counter.

He offered her a casual smirk. "Now then, thank you for your patience." The irony was laced in his words, because the woman now looked as though she was two seconds away from exploding in suppressed rage. "So, you wanted the Marshmallow Round, correct?"

At that moment, Meagan looked over at him. "Where are they?" She asked.

"They should be over there in one of the crevices on that side, but I haven't seen them since I got here," Willy said and pointed. "Why don't you check the shelf again? Maybe you will see something that I might have overlooked."

The teenager nodded, but when she returned, she was shaking her head. "There's none left, I think we're sold out." She looked at Belinda, a coy smile abruptly shadowing her face. "Might I interest you in the Slugworth variety?"

Willy turned and looked at his assistant, the irony that crept across his face almost making her laugh, but instead he managed to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

Belinda looked at Meagan, somehow trying to place where she had seen her, but being unable to, she eventually curled up her lip. "The Slugworth variety?" She scowled. "No, you can't interest me in that at all. Everyone knows that his stuff tastes like crap."

Willy smirked, well at least that was one notion that they could both agree on. He turned to Meagan. "Maybe Bill has some in the back of the shop and didn't have time to put them out. Why don't you go check and see?"

Hesitantly, Meagan nodded before backing away from the counter. It was clear what Willy was trying to do, and that was to get her as far away from Belinda as he was capable of.

A wave of gratitude washed over her and, but as she watched him contend with his stalker, her earlier fears returned. Please be careful, Mr. Wonka, she suppressed the urge to speak.

Slowly, she retreated to the back of the store. Once she had walked through the back door, she nearly ran over Tamara and Bill who were now pressed up against the door and listening attentively to the goings on out in the shop.

Before Meagan could so much as gasp or scream at the fact that they had just scared her half to death, Bill sprang out in front of the her and clasped his hand over her mouth. "Shhh, it's alright, we did not intend to scare you."

Despite his words, her muffled screams could still be heard. Bill was not quite certain if she was screaming because she was afraid of him, or of the situation out in the shop. Regardless of this, he took a deep breath and spoke. "You have nothing to be afraid of, this is my shop and you've been helping my friend in the front, correct?"

She stilled, but offered a slight nod as he lowered his hand, but continued speaking. "You see if you scream then you might actually attract the wrong kind of attention."

"Y-you m-mean…" she tried to speak. Her words were now caught in her throat and it was clear to both Tamara and Bill that she was quite frightened.

"Just take a deep breath and tell us what's been happening," he said gently. "Do you need to sit down?"

Meagan shook her head. "I-I c-can't. I-I'm supposed to help."

"My friend needed some assistance for the 'rush', correct?" He asked with a knowing smile plastered across his face.

"Yes, but t-that woman…" she tried again, but this time her voice trailed off.

"…Yes, we already know about her," Bill said nodding. "She's the one who is stalking Willy Wonka."

"Y-you know about that?" The teenager asked wearily.

Tamara nodded sadly, her words somehow emerging far braver than she felt at that moment. "Unfortunately, we do."

"Y-yeah, and h-he…I-I mean, that man out there…He's…"

"…He's Willy Wonka," Bill said with an affirming nod. "It's like I said, he's a friend of mine and he's here to help us contend with a few things. Not just the 'rush'."

"But why?" Meagan asked shyly. "I mean; it's dangerous for him. That woman…she's insane."

"We know," Tamara said with a nod. "Bill and Willy came up with this crazy plot to help me get my things out of the apartment. You see, that woman out there is, or in this case, was, my roommate."

Meagan looked at Bill. "S-she wants Marshmallow Rounds, and I can't find them on the shelves. I'm afraid of what she'll do if she doesn't get any."

"That's because I removed them until this charade is behind us," Bill explained. Sensing the urgency of the situation, he casually walked over to one of the still sealed boxes in the corner. This box bore the name 'Wonka' on one side, but ignoring that, he opened it, pulled out three Marshmallow Rounds, and handed them to the teenager.

"Here, you can take these out there. If she asks for more, tell her that there are no more, that she got the last three until the next shipment comes in." He paused. "Try not to worry, we know that you're doing your best. Right now, panicking is not going to help you or him out of the current situation." He paused but when he saw her nodding, he continued speaking. "The important thing is for you to know is that you're in good hands and that we're not going to let anything bad happen to you or Willy."

Meagan nodded and with the candy in her hands, she started to make her way out of the back room and into the main section of the store. Willy was, at that moment still looking around for the requested candy and was not having any luck in the matter.

"Did you find anything back there?" He asked Meagan.

"Yeah, your friends are back," she said softly as she handed him the three wrapped packages. "Bill said that that's all there is, and that this should hopefully pacify her."

Willy nodded as he returned to where Belinda stood. "I only have three Marshmallow Rounds," he said.

"You don't have any more than that?" Belinda asked. "I mean; you have no Wonka candies at all?"

"I didn't say that, I said these are the last of the Marshmallow Rounds," Willy said as he cast a final glance around the shop. "Of course we have other Wonka candies here, they just happen to sell out rather quickly. Specifically, what I can offer you is a regular Wonka or a Scrumdidlyumptious bar. It also looks as though Bill has a plentiful supply of Gobstoppers, a few Taffy Jubilees, Surprise Drops, and the popular Snozzberry Gums."

Belinda's scowl did not vanish, in fact, she still looked as annoyed as ever. "You are totally clueless about candy, aren't you?" She eventually asked, her voice almost making Meagan snort with laugher. Instead of acknowledging the teenager's actions, the older woman continued speaking. "Where's the other guy who's usually here?"

Willy arched an eyebrow. "The store owner, you mean?" He asked, but when she nodded, he continued. "He stepped out for a time, but my assistant here said that he has returned. Wait here and we'll let him know that you have inquired about him."

He left the counter and with a gentle hand, he reached for Meagan's elbow and carefully nudged her back into the inner sanctums of the shop.

Despite his wanting to protect his young friend, the moment they came into the back room, Willy took a deep breath as he started to softly count under his breath. "One, two three…"

"…Rough day in candy land?" Bill's voice abruptly emerged, thus causing him to turn around. He smiled the moment he saw the two of them standing there waiting. Wordlessly, Tamara rushed over to him and soon felt herself drawn in the chocolatier's loving embrace.

At that moment, the candy seller began to chuckle, but after a second, Bill looked at Meagan. "You did a very good thing out there, young lady."

"Her name is Meagan, and she saved me when the rush of kids came in just before you both got back," Willy explained. "She's a friend of Charlie's and she helped him to get away from Belinda when she tried to get inside the factory."

"She tried to do that?" Tamara asked weakly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It slipped my mind," he said honestly, but looked at Bill with a smirk shadowing his handsome face. "Now, to answer your question, it was a very rough day in 'candy land' indeed."

Bill nodded, but turned to face Meagan. "From what I was able to hear back here during the rush, you're really quite good at this."

The teenager blushed as she shyly looked at Willy. "I had a some help."

"She's a great assistant, don't let her bashfulness fool you, Bill," he said smiling. "In fact, I would suggest you hire her as an assistant at least until Tamara is able to return to work."

Meagan looked at the chocolatier, her eyes wide with surprise. She did not expect a recommendation from Willy Wonka at all, but at the same time, she could not deny that this had been a great deal of fun for her.

"That's not a bad idea," Bill said. "You ever think about taking a job after school?"

"I thought about it," Meagan admitted shyly. "Actually, I'd been sort of thinking about it since I turned sixteen two months ago. I just didn't think that anyone would really want to hire me."

"Well, perhaps you ought to consider this as an option. While Tamara is on sick-leave, I'm going to need some help during the afternoon rush. Are you interested?" Bill asked. "If we work well together, I'll keep you on."

"I'd have to ask my parents, but I'm sure it would be OK with them," she said as she shyly looked at Willy. "I had fun working with you, Mr. Wonka."

The candy maker smiled. "It was nice, at least for the most part. Just don't let those impatient snozzwangers out there get you down."

Meagan laughed softly as Bill looked at her. "You do realize that he won't be here all the time, don't you?"

"I know," she said sadly as she turned and looked at the chocolatier. "Will I at least get to see you again?"

Willy nodded. "You will," he said smiling, but reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "Maybe you can even come and visit me sometime."

"I-I'd love that," she said smiling. "I mean; if it's no trouble."

Willy shook his head. "None at all." He shifted his attention until he was looking down at Tamara. She was still in his arms, but was staring up at him with unsuppressed wonder. "What?" He finally asked her.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about something," she offered softly, but internally, she was asking herself how much magic did this remarkable man intend on weaving that day? It was clear that Meagan was completely star-struck at that moment.

Willy nodded, but took a deep breath. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," she whispered. "Willy, that was Belinda who came in the shop."

Willy nodded. "I know. I sort of figured that because Meagan got rather scared when we saw her coming in. The other giveaway is that she started asking me for Marshmallow Rounds."

Bill smiled but looked at Tamara and Willy. "I think you two best make yourselves scarce right now. Meagan and I can take care of everything here. It would make everything even more chaotic if Belinda were to discover that Tamara was here."

"What are you both going to do?" Willy asked.

"I don't really know, but I've had more than my fair share of complicated customers, and this is just another feather in my cap," Bill said smugly. "I think between Meagan and myself, we'll handle everything just fine."

"Make sure she gets home safely, Bill," Willy said.

"I will," he said and smiled at Tamara. "Don't forget to tell him how well you took care of Neil."

"You did?" Willy asked.

"She was utterly brilliant," Bill said smiling. "She really let him have a piece of her mind, although he had a knife and was intent on doing her harm."

"A knife?" Willy looked horrified. "Oh Tamara."

"I handled that part," the candy seller said casually. "Now, I think that you should go and let Tamara fill you in on the other details."

Willy nodded as the two of them grabbed the things she had managed to salvage from the apartment. Next, she retrieved her purse before accepting the chocolatier's offered arm. Together, the two of them slipped quietly outside through the backdoor.

Once they were gone, Bill looked at Meagan. "You want to call your parents and tell them where you are?"

The teenager nodded. "I probably should, thank you."

"No, it's me who should be thanking you," he smiled. "Listen, I'll take care of Belinda, you let your folks know what is going on and I'll see you out there when you're done. The phone's buried somewhere on the desk in my office." He pointed to a small cubicle, which was covered in paperwork.

"I'll find it," she said with a casual wave as she retreated to the office. Within seconds, she had managed and placed her call home.


	40. Chapter 39: The Great Escape

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter of this story. This chapter is more or less some Willy and Tamara fluff. Sometimes that what needs to happen as a means to connect several of the ideas I have for later chapters. I want to take the time to thank my reviewers for sticking with me on this. I am seriously starting to think that this story is either too long or boring, but I am intending to finish it, for better or worse._

_Not much else to say besides that. I am presently trying to keep four stories going as well as do my other things here, so I hope that you will understand that way it is with writing._

_YaYa, thanks again for the continued support with my writing, it means a lot to me that you have been here and are so nice about letting me know what you think with this one. Hope that you continue to enjoy the story. If you want, I started a crossover, that you might or might not enjoy. Your call, since I don't know how well crossovers are accepted in this section._

_Lysi Marie, please post a new chapter of 'Dark Chocolate' soon, I'm hard up for good stories to read as all my favorite writers seem to be on sabbatical these days!_

_The same holds true with you, La Vik, we need an update of 'If Sweet Things Spoil'. Thanks to both of you for sticking with the story and keeping me updated on how it's going. Not much else to say, besides plugging your work. The reviews are very encouraging to me. Thank you so much for that._

_Here's hoping that you continue to enjoy the story, and please keep me posted on how this is shaping up. Enjoy the fluff._

_Yva_

* * *

**Chapter 39: The Great Escape**

The minute Tamara and Willy had managed to leave the candy store, they made a beeline straight for the Wonkavator. Reaching it, the chocolatier fished a small hand-link from his pocket and began to deactivate the safety locks on the device.

Seconds later, he opened the glass door and ushered her quickly inside. The door was closed firmly behind them and with ease Willy managed to navigate his invention back into the air.

For her part, Tamara simply put her belongings on the floor and allowed her body to collapse into one of the seats. As she felt the invention beginning to move, she closed her eyes fearfully until they were airborne. Once they were safely flying over the town, however, the young woman's resolve crumbled and she collapsed into the chocolatier's arms with a soft sob emerging.

"I was so scared," she cried as she felt his arms winding their way around her and pulling her securely against him. "Oh God, Willy, it was so awful…"

"…It's over now, and you're safe," He whispered soothingly. As he held her tightly in his arms, he wondered if she could even hear how his heart was hammering loudly in his chest. Could she even tell that this had been just about as nerve-wracking for him as it had been for her?

All that the chocolatier even knew about the experiences that Bill and Tamara had shared were the bits and pieces that he had been told back at the candy shop. He knew that she had been assaulted by her ex-boyfriend, but there was no telling what she had been through during those few terrifying moments.

He brushed his hand through her hair as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head reassuringly. As if by impulse alone, she wordlessly tightened her hold on him.

"I was a bit worried myself," he confided, his words as soft and gentle as his touch. "When Meagan whispered to me that you had returned, I was quite relieved. Belinda wanted the Marshmallow Rounds, and then the kids came through the door in droves. My first thought was to get Meagan out of there, but she ended up saving the day by helping me wait on the kids. You were right about one thing, I am rather out of practice with playing crowd control."

"Not entirely," she whispered, as she backed away from him and touched the bowtie that was still bunched at the top of his shirt. In their haste to leave, Willy had failed to return it to his friend. Instead of paying it any mind, she raised her head so that she could look into the depths of his eyes. She could look forever into those eyes and not feel as though she was lost and adrift somewhere.

At that moment, he cast a brief glance in the direction of the bag and the safe that she had brought from the apartment. "Is that all that you were able to recover?" He asked softly.

Tamara nodded unhappily. "S-she ruined everything, even the shadow box my grandparents gave me. It was in several pieces beneath the glass from my mirror. It seemed as though the longer I was away, the angrier she got."

"I'm so sorry, Tamara," he said weakly. "I really am."

Shrugging her shoulders, her eyes slowly closed. "I guess it's a good thing that I have these things now, but I still have to buy myself some clothes. I can't very well walk around in Mrs. Bucket's dresses all the time, they're too big for me."

"Maybe it would be wise for you to go back to your family now," he said. "When you said that Bill had taken care of Neil, I can only imagine what he did."

"You knew that he studied karate?" She asked.

Willy nodded. "That's why I knew that you would be safe, but in truth, I was still worried about you."

"You were?" She asked all the while wondering if his professed worry could possibly be something like love.

He nodded, his hand brushing gently against her face.

"You know, they arrested Neil," she whispered softly. "But, I can't forget what he tried to do to me. H-he wanted to…" her voice trailed off. "…I-I mean; it just…"

"…I know," he touched her lips with his fingertips, thus causing the flow of words to cease. As his soft utterance filled her ears, she could feel his hand lightly moving from her mouth to her cheeks, the soft touch making the butterflies start to careen rampant in the pit of her stomach.

Trying to ignore what he was doing to her, she bit down on her lip. At the same time, she lowered her head, the tears slipping from beneath the lids, and meshing against his soft featherlike touch. "It made me feel so s-small and insignificant."

"You're not," he whispered. "You're a bigger person than he'll ever be."

"I don't know," she responded in kind, her head still lowered.

"Listen to me," he spoke, the words filled with his own brand of insistence. "I've seen the negative side of humanity in my life, Tamara. I know that it sometimes seems hard to believe, but it's the truth. What I saw all those years ago caused me to close the factory in the first place."

"Bill said that people were stealing ideas from you," she whispered.

He nodded. "Yes, and I lost my faith in them. In essence, it took a great deal for me to find it again."

She closed her eyes. "It's terrible that that happened to you." She looked away from him, her gaze now on the distant smokestacks of his factory. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he said.

"I know, but I'm still sorry." She turned back around to face him, her eyes somehow betraying her. Instead of continuing to look into his eyes, she closed hers, thus blocking away the impact his piercing gaze always seemed to have on her. "Willy, I love…" Her voice trailed off as she bit down hard on her lower lip.

"You love?" He asked softly. "What?"

Tamara took a deep breath, but she couldn't force the last word out of her mouth for anything in the world. In fact, it seemed to hang in the air just as the Wonkavator sometimes did. "Being free," she eventually offered, the words somehow lame and lifeless.

"Yes you are free," he responded. Although his voice seemed to filled with his typical lightheartedness, there was a heaviness dwelling in their wake. "You can do whatever you like now." He paused as he looked at her. "What would you like?"

"I don't know, maybe we could go to a place where we can see flowers and nature. Maybe somewhere Belinda would never think to look for us," she whispered. "It sounds silly, doesn't it?"

"No, Tamara, it doesn't," he affirmed softly, but there was no mistaking the worry that was now in his voice. "Please, just reassure me of one thing."

"What?" She asked.

"That you would want to go back to the factory with me after our visit outside is over," he responded.

"Of course I would," she whispered. "But Willy, when was the last time you really sat outside on the ground?"

"I don't recall, but when you told me about camping, I started to realize how much I had not yet done in my life. You see, when I was young, my father was rather strict. I remember how he would get onto me about the dangers of germs when I would come home with dirt on my hands."

She looked at him and spoke, her words escaping without even stopping to contemplate what she was saying or why it was she was even saying it. "You know, I can't really imagine spending all my days cooped up or feeling as though I'm trapped inside a bubble."

"Is that how you think I live?" He asked, his voice carrying traces of hurt.

"In a way, yes," she whispered truthfully. When she saw the hurt shift to that of resentment, she continued, this time her voice a soft plea. "Please don't be angry with me for saying so, but you have never been camping and that makes me somehow think that you have lived a pretty sheltered life."

"Sheltered?" Willy asked in a curt tone of voice. He pondered how or why it was that he felt so irritated by her assumptions. At the same instant, his logic started to argue about how she had been through so much and that his hostility was uncalled-for.

He cast a glance over at her and noticed how she was still sitting on the small seat, her head somewhat lowered, her eyes half closed. Frustration suddenly filled him, and wordlessly, he turned away from her and began to press several of the buttons on the Wonkavator.

Moments later, the invention stopped and hung lazily in the air before abruptly shooting across the sky in another direction and away from the factory.

For her part, Tamara's body began to shift along with the movements of the invention. After several moments, she raised her head and slowly opened her eyes to see that his eyes were staring straight ahead and his mouth was turned down in an unreadable line. "I offended you," she whispered. "That wasn't my intention, Willy."

"You want to go outside, that's where we're going," he said evenly, his voice emerging somewhat cold and distant. For a split second, Tamara was reminded of the confrontation in the Beige Room prior to her getting sick. Instead of speaking of that, she listened as he continued. "Perhaps through that, you will come to accept that I'm not as isolated as you might think."

Tamara offered a slight nod, but looked away from him as guilt washed over her. "Willy?" She spoke his name, and waited for him to respond. When he did not, she closed her eyes and looked away.

You blew it, her internal voice began chastising her as she felt the tears streaming down her face. How could you have said something like that to him? He is such a kind and empathetic man, and you go and insult him by calling him 'sheltered'. It would serve you right if he were to leave you somewhere to fend for yourself.

By this time, the Wonkavator eventually did land, but instead of raising her head to see the stream and wildflowers that were outside, Tamara simply remained where she was, her head lowered and her hands clasped.

"Here we are," the chocolatier said softly.

Tamara said nothing, instead she removed her shoes and with them in one of her hands, she started to walk towards the now opened door.

"You can leave them here," Willy said, his voice impassive. "I'm not throwing you out."

With the words stuck in her throat, she nodded but allowed them to slip from her hands and land on the floor. Stepping outside she suddenly felt the coolness of the air wafting about and she closed her eyes as the gentle breeze hit her face.

Seconds later, she felt one of his hands slip her own snugly against the bend of his other arm and lead her further away from the glass Wonkavator.

Oh how I love him, she thought sorrowfully. It was as though the feelings that she carried were somehow going completely berserk inside of her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg his forgiveness as well as say those three words that were now echoing loudly in her heart.

Instead, she said nothing.

Her fears seemed to swallow her alive, the words her ex boyfriend had spoken back in her apartment now echoing loudly in her conscience.

You hurt him, in the very same way Neil had often hurt you, her inner voice continued its assault on her. How could you do such a thing after this man has been nothing but nice to you?

The tears continued to stream silently down her cheeks as the next question filtered through her mind. What would he say if he knew that Belinda Hutchinson's roommate had actually gone and fallen in love with him? The thought of being compared to the psychotic ways of the other woman somehow forced Tamara to remain silent.

To tell him that she cared for him seemed safe enough, and it was abundantly clear that he cared for her as well. In the back of her mind, however, she remembered the two or three innocent kisses that they had exchanged since these strange new feelings had emerged. Yet, to say that she loved him was close to impossible and the prospect of doing so made her blush profusely.

Looking up, she could see the chocolatier's profile as they walked. Since he wore no hat, she watched as his golden hair began to dance about in the breeze, the life that filled it making her stare at him without even realizing that that was what she was doing.

When he turned his head to face her, she quickly looked down at her hand, which still rested against his bent arm, the softness of his shirt touching her fingertips.

"Willy?" She spoke his name and when he turned once again, she continued speaking, all the while trying to keep the tears from betraying the guilt she still carried. "Thank you for everything you've done."

"I didn't do anything, Tamara. We came here because you asked me to," Willy said, the inexpressive tone still hanging onto his words.

He stopped walking as they reached the stream, but noticed that she continued to move. After breaking contact with him, she began to bunch up the folds of her skirt. Wordlessly, she stepped into the mud lining the shore of the stream, the dark mush sculpting its way between her toes.

Willy watched and stared at her, but eventually sat down on the grass as she pulled her caked over feet out of the mud and dipped them in the coolness of the water. After several seconds, he pulled himself off the earth and kicked off his shoes and socks.

Rolling the bottom of his pant legs up to his knees, he made his way over to the bank of the stream and allowed his feet to touch the mud. As the coldness of it oozed between his toes, he smiled slightly as he raised his head and noticed that she was now staring at him.

Wordlessly, she extended one of her hands to him.

He nodded as he reached for her outstretched hand and felt the softness of her touch. Still not speaking, he curled his fingers carefully around her smaller hand.

Once she could feel this, she raised her head and looked into his eyes, her tongue silently raking over her lips. "Forgive me, Willy?" She whispered softly, the cadence wavering as her last word emerged. "Please."

Willy looked down into her face, and spoke, his words filling the silence of the area. Instead of acknowledging her question or even responding to it, he simply began to recite a verse by William Blake. "'To see a world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand, an eternity in an hour'."

Seconds later, she felt him drawing her toward the bank. Once they had reached the grassy field where his shoes lay, he seated himself on the ground and waited silently for her to join him.

Once she did, he spoke, his words a slight mumble. "Perhaps I am somewhat sheltered," he admitted as he began to rub his wet feet against the grass as of means of removing the remaining mud from them.

Rather than responding to this, Tamara shifted about the skirts of her dress. "That verse was so beautiful."

These words hung in the air for several minutes before he spoke. "Tamara, I'm sorry I got angry with you. It is not always easy for me to acknowledge the things in myself that are probably the truth."

"No," she whispered all the while shaking her head. "It wasn't the truth, Willy, it was wrong of me and it was very unkind."

The chocolatier reached over and touched one side of her face. "It's alright, my dear, don't give it another thought." He offered her a half-hearted smile as his next question emerged thus completely changing the subject. "What's your favorite quotation? You must at least have one."

She thought for several moments, but then spoke, her words filled with more meaning than she thought she was even capable of offering at that moment. "'Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction'." (_Antoine de Saint-Exupery_)

"Why does the emotion of 'love' hold so much meaning to you?" He asked.

"I don't know, I guess that's something that everyone wants to feel at least once in their lives. I know that it seems strange for me to be especially fond of it, but I am," she admitted softly. "I still remember when I was younger and about how everyone talked about falling in love, meeting Prince Charming, and how special that was supposed to be. I guess after everything that happened with Neil, it all just seems too complicated to ever happen to someone like me. The fancies of childhood are just something to imagine, there is no realism to it at all."

"I think deep down inside you wish that perhaps there was more to it than that," He said softly. "You wish that it could be simple, like this place. In it, all that you can see and experience are the feelings of the breeze as it falls against your skin, and the joy of smelling a wildflower mixed with the scent of a mountain stream. That's true simplicity, Tamara."

"Life isn't like that, though," she whispered. Despite the warmth of the air, she wrapped her arms around her body and shivered.

"Maybe you're simply not seeing it," he offered softly. "You may have had so many experiences in your life that you have started to forget what it means or what it's like." Seconds passed and he reached over and allowed his hand to cradle her face as his thumb wiped away the tears. "Perhaps it is rather like the fact that before today, I had never played in the mud."

As she felt his gentle touch, the tears that were caught beneath her eyes caused his face to literally swam before her. "H-how could I have said such a horrible thing to you? I never wanted to hurt you."

"I know," he whispered as he drew her into his embrace. When the tears did not stop falling, he continued speaking. "Please don't cry. For me to think that I've caused you even more pain would break my heart."

"It's not you, Willy, it's me," she found her voice and spoke, her words cracking. "I don't know why you would even bother with someone like me."

"I bother with you because I like you. Well, it's obviously not just that. I think you are honest, loving, and very beautiful. I only wish that I could make you as happy as you deserve to be." Leaning towards her, he kissed her lightly.

As soon as the kiss ended, she spoke. "I-I'm happy just being here with you even if I'm probably not very good company right now."

"That's not true," he whispered. "You're absolutely delightful."

"You're not angry with me?" She whispered.

"Not at all," he said as he stood up and reached for her hands. "Shall we go home now or would you like to stay out here a little while longer?"

"Home?" She whispered, the confusion evident in her gaze.

"The factory is your home for as long as you would like," he said softly, the simple resonances of his voice dispelling any concerns that he might have been joking. What Tamara saw, instead was honest openness and this made her nod and reach for his offered hands.

As soon as he had pulled her to her feet, she could suddenly feel one of his arms wrapping protectively around her as he continued speaking. "Bill did say that it is a safe place, but something tells me that you need to feel safe in more places than just one. Maybe it was a good idea for us to come here after all."

She nodded, but allowed herself to relax in his hold. At that moment, she did not care where they went, just as long as they were together.

When they reached the door to the Wonkavator, Willy opened it. In the typical manner of a gentleman, he motioned for her to enter first. Once inside, she lowered herself onto the small seat and started to reach for her shoes.

It was at that moment when the reality of her situation abruptly hit her. She had no real home to go back to, no possessions; nothing. All that she really had was the charity of a man who had made her heart race as though she was on a runaway train. She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

Not even this dress is mine, she thought as she released the breath she was holding in the form of a sigh. It was no secret, she was heartbroken and everything felt as though it had shattered into pieces like the mirror in her bedroom. She wanted nothing more than to confess to the man seated next to her that he had miraculously given her hope when she had thought it had died away. Instead of even thinking about her feelings towards him, her thoughts continued to condemn her with silent accusations. You have done everything wrong, they chastised her.

For his part, Willy took a deep breath as he regarded the young woman seated next to him. All of the sudden, she looked terribly fragile to him. I should have realized how frightened she was instead of getting angry with her, he thought despairingly.

He took a deep breath and spoke, his voice causing her to raise her head slightly. "I want you to know that contrary to what you may think, I do know how you feel, Tamara."

"You do?" She whispered, her question laced in insecurity.

He nodded. "Yes, I know how it feels to try and pick up the pieces and move on, all the while knowing that it is quite a bit harder than most would assume." As he spoke, he began to press a series of buttons and the Wonkavator shifted slightly before rising into the air. He reached over and took her hand in his and squeezed it.

At that moment, she raised her head only briefly and lowered it again. "Willy, I…" Her words trailed off. Despite her fighting against them, the tears came and she felt herself breaking down, the soft sobs filling the confines of his invention.

Leaning over, Willy pulled her against him as his head lowered until his lips were brushing against the top of her head. "'Having a dream is what keeps you alive. Overcoming challenges makes life worth living'," he whispered as he stared down at her. _(Mark Twain)_

She had already lost so much, and yet he had resigned himself to being there and helping her through that escalated nightmare that had somehow become her life.

As his thought continued to drift, Tamara allowed herself to completely sink into his gentle hold.


	41. Chapter 40: Candy is Dandy

_Welcome to the latest chapter of this story. I have to shift a bit back and forth, but after this chapter the next two will be entirely devoted to Willy and Tamara. I just needed to get this chapter in there so we don't seem like we're hanging here and waiting to see what will happen with Belinda next. I also wanted to give Bill and Meagan a chance to talk._

_Not much else to say besides that. It seems that everyone's on holiday now as things have been really quiet these days._

_Hope everyone is well, and as always, keep me posted on how this thing is shaping up. I fear that it may be getting too long and boring. Hopefully not, but what started out as a story of about 100 pages, has turned into one inching over the 200 page mark. Thanks to Ya Ya and Lysi Marie for the wonderful reviews. Glad you both like this._

_The thing is, I just don't believe in rushing things and Tamara and Willy need a break after the candy store rush and Neil. ;)_

_Enjoy! Typo found and corrected, thanks Ya Ya.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 40: Candy is Dandy**

Inside Bill's candy shop, Belinda was still sitting at the counter and waiting for someone to come back. Eventually, the store owner returned to the main room. His steps were slow and deliberate as he came over to where she was sitting.

After what seemed like an eternity, she raised her head and immediately could see an almost hostile look shadowing his features. Trying to ignore that, she crossed her arms over her chest as though anticipating a confrontation of some kind.

"So we meet again," he said bluntly, his words controlled. It was almost as though he was trying to keep his antagonism in check. "My assistants informed me you asked about me. One of them went as far as to say that you were behaving quite rudely."

Belinda made a slow hissing sound between her lips, but said nothing that could be equated to a verbal response.

Instead of allowing her to get the better of him, Bill took a deep breath, his gaze now on the cloth bag she had in her possession. "Now then, young lady," he began to speak. He knew that his voice sounded somewhat condescending, but at that moment, he simply did not care. "It would seem that you have acquired the Marshmallow Rounds that you requested. Is there anything else I can assist you with."

"Maybe," she began, her voice laced in attitude. "The truth is, I thought your assistants were lying."

Unconsciously, Bill's eyes rolled. It seemed clear that he did not buy the implications of that response at all. Instead of immediately speaking, his eyes widened only slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest in a similar fashion and regarded her. "The people who work for me don't lie. If they did then they would be out of a job. I do not take kindly to liars."

Ignoring the unspoken double meaning of his words, Belinda looked at him. "So that means you don't have anymore Marshmallow Rounds?"

"Aside from what my assistants offered to you, no, I don't," he said shaking his head. "I am presently waiting for another shipment to be delivered, but I'm not anticipating until next week sometime."

"That's sort of what that man said," Belinda said, her voice somewhat muted. "But, one of them, looked kind of familiar. Who's the kid?"

"She's new," Bill offered freely. "She started working here today, so you'll probably be seeing her around if you are here during the general 'after school rush'. I hired her to help me out while Tamara's on sick leave."

"Tamara's on sick leave?" Belinda asked. This was news to her. She figured that Tamara would be back at the shop since she had to work to help pay her half of the rent. "Does she get compensation for that? I mean; we do have to make the rent, you know."

Bill's eyes rolled. "She's on sick leave," he said curtly. "That's all I can tell you."

Belinda took a deep breath. "So what you're saying you don't know where Tamara is?" She asked, her intention clear. She was trying without much success at digging for more information.

"I don't make it a habit to shadow my employees," Bill said meaningfully.

"But, I thought you knew where she was," she shot back.

"If I did, I would not be at liberty to disclose that information," he said simply.

"Why not?" Belinda asked. "I am her roommate."

"Yes, you are, but you aren't her keeper," Bill said.

Belinda took a deep breath, she knew that she was losing this argument, but instead of getting angry, she tried another tactic. "I'm also her friend."

"Her friend?" He asked, the traces of irony never leaving his voice. He had seen the disaster area that had once been Tamara's room and it was clear that this was something he would not soon forget.

"Yes, her friend," she said still unmoving.

"Alright fair enough," he said. "Then I can tell you that I did see Tamara earlier today, and she seems to be under the impression that you are not her friend at all. In fact, she asked me specifically not to tell you where she went or what she was doing. As her employer and friend, I am merely respecting her wishes."

Belinda looked at him, her eyes narrowing. "That doesn't seem right."

"Well, what seems and what is are two distinctly different things," he said. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"But she is my friend," Belinda said.

"That may be an assertion that is strictly one-sided," Bill said. "Now, I do have work to do, and I think it's time for you to either buy something or leave."

"I'll leave, but I still have a problem with the behavior of your associates," she shot back. "Why didn't they help me when I got here earlier?"

"They did help you," Bill said. "You have the Marshmallow Rounds. What more do you want?"

"They were supposed to help me first," she whined.

"Perhaps, but the fact of the matter is, you're the adult, and should practice patience. The children have always gotten priority here and that's how I generally do business. I'm sorry that you felt as though they were ignoring you, but in defense of the people who help me out here, they're only human. They can get sidetracked just like anyone else. But, as I can plainly see, they did help you. They brought you the last three Marshmallow Rounds in the entire shop. What more could you have possibly wanted?"

"I want to know who that girl is," Belinda said matter-of-factly.

"Why?" He asked directly. "I thought you were more interested in where Tamara was and not in the names of the other people who work here."

"It's not any big deal," Belinda said haughtily. "I just thought I had seen her around and figured that if I knew her name I might be able to place her."

"Maybe you have seen her," he shot back. "It's a small town, and you could have very easily crossed paths with one another on any given occasion."

Belinda looked at him. "I just thought that only you and Tamara worked here. Now, I'm seeing a strange guy who looks like something straight out of a horror movie."

Bill took a deep breath, trying to stifle a chuckle. If only she knew that the man she was insulting was the very same person she professed to be in love with. Before he could so much as speak, Meagan's voice emerged, thus interrupting the dialogue.

"That man who helped me was Bill's brother and he's visiting from out of town," the teenager said with a slight smile on her face. Although Meagan looked better than she had when Bill had first met her, he was surprised at how well equipped she was at making up stories. In fact, instead of looking afraid or nervous, her eyes now seemed to carry a newfound element of courage and strength. Instead of questioning this, however, he watched as she walked over to them and leaned her weight casually against the side of the counter.

"My parents said the job would be great, and my dad said that he'd come by and pick me up at closing time," the teenager said with a smile.

"That sounds good, does he know that we close at six?" He asked.

"Yes, I told him," she said smiling shyly. "I actually checked the store hours before I first came in earlier today."

"Observant, I like that," he said with an approving nod, but turned his head when Belinda spoke, her abrasive voice filling the small confines of the shop. Several of the kids turned their heads to stare.

"That man was really your brother?" She asked.

"Yes, you could say that," Bill said, but opted not to elaborate.

"He can't be your brother, he looks nothing like you," Belinda said.

"I don't look anything like my brother, but, it doesn't mean that he's not my brother," Meagan said as she casually turned away from the woman. It was clear that the teenager had reached the end of her patience with the stalker and had opted to just leaving her in the candy seller's capable hands.

By this time, several new children had entered the shop just in time to catch the tail end of the rush. This gave the teenager an adequate excuse to go and tend to their orders on the other end of the long counter.

Bill turned away from Belinda at that moment, thus indicating from his point of view, the conversation was over.

For her part, Belinda reached for her belongings and in a fluid motion she slid off the stool. She raised her head and looked at the shop's proprietor as she started to back away from the counter and casually made her way towards the front door.

"There are plenty of other candy stores in this town, you know," she grumbled under her breath, the words audible to everyone in the room.

"None of them have the great selection that Bill has," the girl named June-Marie called out, her words causing Belinda's scowl to intensify.

"We'll see about that," she groused.

"Good luck then," June-Marie said as the woman left the shop. As soon as she was gone, the girl finished nibbling on her Sizzler and looked at Bill. "What's her problem, did she get a hold of some bad chocolate or something?"

"I wish it was that simple, June-Marie," Bill said with a casual smirk. "So, can I get you kids anything else? Or will your parents get upset with me for ruining your dinner again?"

"How about the key to the storage room?" A heavyset boy asked as he popped one of the _Wonka Surprise Drops_ into his mouth and began to suck on it. As he did, his lips and tongue abruptly turned from pale pink, to red, to blue, to purple, and finally taking on a dark greenish hue.

"Keep dreaming, Ernie," Christopher said as he took in the other boy's physical appearance. Laughing, he continued speaking. "That look really suits you." He finished his Triple Cream Cup and handed the wrapping paper to Bill to deposit in the garbage.

Once the candy seller had done so, he produced a small mirror from behind the counter and let Ernie get a good look at his green colored lips and tongue.

Gasping, the boy spit the drop out into his hand and looked at Bill in absolute horror as the other children in the room began to laugh loudly. At this point, even Meagan had a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Don't worry, Ernie," Bill offered encouragingly. "By the time you get home, the drop's effects will have worn off." The boy nodded as he slid off the stool and turned away from the counter.

"If it don't, then my dad'll call his lawyer brother and he'll sue you and Mr. Wonka for everything you got," Ernie grumbled as he left the shop, the door closing behind him in a resounding thud.

At that moment, Christopher started to take his leave as well. "Speaking of law and order, my dad would read me the riot act if I don't get home soon. See you tomorrow, Bill," the boy said still laughing at Ernie's mishap with the _Surprise Drops_.

"Bye Christopher, see you later," he said as he and Meagan watched the other children in the small clique sliding off their stools and leaving the shop as well. As the door opened and closed, they could hear the bell ringing, thus announcing their departure.

Once they were gone, Bill looked over at the remaining customers. "I've got to check something in the back, kids, I'll be back in a few minutes. If you need something just ask Meagan to help you."

"OK," the remaining children said as he left the front of the shop and went to the back in order to check to see if the Wonkavator was still in area.

Peering outside, he immediately noticed that the backyard was now empty.

Smiling slightly, he returned to the front to see that Meagan was now waiting on the last of the children. Finishing this task, she walked over to where he stood and leaned herself up against the ladder that was along the side wall.

"How's it going?" He asked.

"It's a lot more work than I thought, but it's also kind of fun," she said.

"Well, you know what Willy Wonka always says about candy?" Bill asked, as the other children raised their heads.

"No, what?" One of the boys asked.

"He says, 'candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker'," he smiled impishly. "But, I'd strongly recommend you staying away from the latter of the two. At least until you're older."

"Bill, do you really know about Willy Wonka, or are those just stories that you like to tell us sometimes?" One of the girls asked as she bit into a piece of taffy.

"Well, let's just say that I know the stories, because I grew up here," he said.

"Christopher said that you, Mr. Wonka, and his dad all went to the same school together," the boy said. "Is that true?"

"That was a long time ago, but perhaps I know about Willy Wonka because I knew him back then. You know, any day that you might be walking around town, you might cross paths with him and not even realize it."

Meagan covered her mouth with her hand. She knew that a number of these kids had actually been waited on by Willy Wonka and didn't even realize it. For whatever reason, this suddenly made her feel very special because he had invited her to come and visit him at the factory. Maybe if they were to actually became friends, she thought, then he would go and visit Portia in the hospital.

Wordlessly, she continued to listen as Bill spoke to the children. This had suddenly become the nicest part about living in this town. The candy seller knew how to weave stories together in the same fashion as Willy Wonka was able to make wonderful candy.

* * *

After the last of the children had left, Meagan was wiping a towel over the counter as Bill came over to her. "You really know how to tell wonderful stories," she remarked.

"They're not just stories, Meagan, they're the truth," he said smiling. "Listen, we have about ten minutes until closing, so why don't we sit down and you can tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"I don't think there is that much to tell, I'm sixteen years old, and I want to be a veterinarian when I get older because I love animals. That's about it."

"There's nothing else that you want to share?" He asked. "I mean; you don't have any secret dreams or ambitions besides that?"

"No, but I'd rather hear more about Mr. Wonka," she said as she lowered her head bashfully. "I had no idea that he was going to be so kind."

"He is very kind, and he knows a good and honest person when he recommends them to work here," he smiled.

She blushed as her next question emerged. "Is that why you gave me a chance?"

"No, but it was part of my rationale," he confessed.

"I don't understand," she mumbled.

"Well, when I hired Tamara to work here, it was because she was interested in the shop. She was not interested in meeting Willy Wonka. In fact, she did not know very much about him at all when she started," he began. "She was able to overcome a great deal through meeting and getting to know him. From what I have been able to surmise, to some extent, you have attained that as well."

"It's funny, but when I saw them together, they really looked as though they're in love with each other," she whispered, her expression taking on an almost romantic essence. "I mean; when he took her in his arms, I could tell that they cared for each other."

"I think they do," Bill said. "They just haven't talked about their feelings yet. It seems they are both equally shy and reserved about their feelings. Tamara seems uncertain and Willy seems to have an overt disadvantage in the romance department. How does he know if the person he shares his feelings with is going to reciprocate them because they genuinely like him, or they want to get into the factory?"

"He's got it hard, doesn't he?" She asked softly.

"Yes he does, and while he is a very good man, he's not perfect," he said softly as he reached over and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Don't forget, Willy Wonka is just as fallible as the rest of us."

"I know," she whispered. "That does explain something to me that I didn't realize before."

"What's that?"

"Did you ever meet Charlie Bucket?" She asked.

"I did on several occasions, but only because he found the Golden Ticket here in this shop. As far as knowing him by name, I didn't really know much about him until after the story of Willy naming him as his successor had come out," he said. "I have, over the past few years, gotten to know him a bit better, though."

"I like Charlie a lot," she confessed. "He's one of the few kids at school who actually talks to me. The weird thing is, the first time I talked to him, he thought that I was using him. It was kind of weird, but now I really do like him and not because of the factory, but because he's nice and a good friend."

"Did you tell him this?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid to. Probably because of what you said about people only liking Mr. Wonka for the factory. I'm afraid that Charlie might think that that's the only reason I kind of like him, too."

"Well, then perhaps there is not so much a difference between you and Willy Wonka after all. But, I can see why you would be afraid to say something about it. Perhaps it is for the very same reason that Tamara has not yet told Willy of her feelings."

"Do you think she ever will?" Meagan asked.

Bill shrugged his shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine." He said as Thomas Lovejoy came into the shop and smiled when he saw his daughter standing at the counter.

Meagan looked at Bill before leaving him to go join her father at the door. "I'll see you tomorrow as soon as I get out of school," she said smiling.

"See you then," he said as he watched the two of them leaving the shop. Once they were gone, he went over to the door and locked it. Before retreating to the back of the shop to do the tallying of the day's sales, he lowered the shades that covered the windows.

In the back of his mind, however, he began to ponder when or more specifically, if, Tamara and Willy would ever find the courage to confess to one another what he and Meagan had discussed as well as observed.


	42. Chapter 41: Rainbows and Light

_Hello and welcome to the next chapter of this story. For better or worse, here's the next installment. You want a fast update, then you know what to do. Mwahhahahaha!_

_Thanks to Ya Ya and Lysi Marie for the wonderful reviews. Here's hoping you two enjoy this. Strange, that I started this story for another two people and now they are away and you two are here. Here's hoping that you enjoy this, and hope everyone has a great week._

_Enjoy and please review._

* * *

**Chapter 41: Rainbows and Light**

Twenty minutes after leaving the meadow, Willy had managed to navigate them back in the direction of Kensington. After several minutes of companionable silence, Tamara spoke. "Willy?"

He stopped everything he was doing and turned around. "What is it, my dear?" He asked, but watched as she shifted her weight and put her shoes on. As she was doing this, her attention abruptly diverted to the safe that was on the floor.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked meekly, the softness of her words taking him somewhat by surprise.

He smiled gently at her as he nodded his head. "You can ask me whatever you like."

Tamara lowered her head. "It's not really a question, it's just that I didn't want to upset you. Am I forgiven?"

"I'm not angry with you," he affirmed. "I think, at first I was, but perhaps I was more angry with myself. It's rather like acknowledging the things that are in oneself that one does not like or want to accept."

Nodding, she reached over and picked up the safe before sitting back down on the seat and opening it. Moments passed as she pulled out what looked to be a stack of letters tied together in a faded red colored ribbon. With them now in her hands, she pressed the bulk of papers to her chest and hugged them as though embracing a person or, at the very least, trying to hold tightly to a memory.

Willy remained where he was, all the while trying to figure out the significance of the worn out pieces of paper. When he could not, he began to study them a bit closer, the words were faded and the writing looked as though it had been cramped with age. To Tamara, they seemed to represent all the hopes and dreams that she carried in the recesses of her heart.

"Tamara?" He eventually spoke her name as though making an inquiry.

This caused her to raise her head and see the confusion that now lined his face. "These are the letters from my grandmother," she explained. "I was always very close to her growing up and they contain a part of my family history. Whenever I am really sad, I hold them in my hands and feel as though she is somehow with me."

"There's no money in there?" He asked motioning towards the safe.

"No, I have to get that from the bank," she said with a weak smile on her face. "Sometimes the most valuable things that one owns are the things that cannot be bought with money, they are merely treasures of the heart."

"That's a very special sentiment," he said softly.

"Yes, well, that's why I wanted to go back," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "Most of the stuff here are things that came from my family or close friends. For that reason, I decided right after we met the first time that I would lock them up. I don't know why I did it, but I guess I figured that in case something like this were to happen, some of my valuables would be safe."

"You concluded that right after finding out what Belinda was doing, didn't you?" He asked.

She nodded. "In a way. I really don't know if I knew what was happening or sensed that something was wrong," she shook her head. "I'm not psychic, Willy, I can't predict what will happen. I do follow my intuition if I think something is not right." Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands over the letters and smiled weakly at him. "You know something?"

"What?"

"I think my grandmother would have liked you," she said. "Or at least your hat."

"Why my hat?"

"She always said that she missed the old days when men would wear top hats and carry canes out on the street," she smiled slightly. "Sometimes I really miss her."

"She died?"

Tamara nodded. "Yes, earlier this year, but just before it happened, she wrote me one last letter warning me that I should be very careful because she thought Neil was dangerous. She knew this all along and for the longest time, I didn't want to think that he was bad for me. Eventually, I had no choice but to believe her. Soon after that, I ended the relationship. Sometimes I think she saved my life, or at the very least she convinced me that I was viewing the world through rose-colored glasses."

"In other words, she was a very wise woman," Willy said as he reached over and touched the side of her face. "She also had a very courageous and daring granddaughter."

As these words emerged, Tamara briefly smiled. "You think I'm brave?"

"Absolutely," he said with an adamant nod as the Wonkavator began its descent down towards the factory.

Despite these reassurances, Tamara gasped and threw herself into his arms. "Courageous and daring, huh? I don't think I'll ever get used to your strange mode of transportation," she whispered as she buried her face against his chest. After several moments, she felt his arms wrapping securely around her and his soft chuckles emerged.

"I don't mind," he said as he brushed his hands gently through her hair. After several moments had passed, his next words emerged, thus changing the subject. "Perhaps, when we get back, we can talk about what happened when you confronted Neil. I'm rather anxious to hear more than just a brief description of it."

When she did not respond to these words, he looked down and noticed that instead of being awake, she had snuggled even closer into his hold and fallen asleep wrapped securely in his arms.

Smiling, he lowered his head, kissed the top of hers and whispered. "Sweet dreams, ma chérie."

* * *

As soon as the Wonkavator had reached the office, it grew quiet and the doors slid open. Wordlessly, Willy picked her up in his arms, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. He then disembarked and carried her out of the flying machine, through his office, and down the hall in the direction of the Rainbow Light Room.

Several minutes later, he reached it, pulled the door open and entered before kicking it closed behind him. Crossing it, he reached the bed and pulled the covers aside before laying her gently on the surface of it. With his arms now freed up, he took the letters that she was still holding out of her hands, and carefully laid them on the bedside table. Next, he pulled the blankets up and over her.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head and looked at the interwoven net of the dream catcher. "You may have your work cut out for you," he mused softly. "Although she's a very brave lady, there may still be struggles ahead while she tries to cope with the aftermath of everything that has happened to her today."

Casually, he reached up and touched the object, all the while watching as it danced over her head. He stared at it for several moments before turning. "I'll be back very soon," he whispered. "I'm going to retrieve the rest of your things."

He crossed the room, opened the door, and made his way back in the direction of his office. He smiled at the thought of having selected this room for her because it was not so far away from where he worked.

As soon as he had retrieved her things, he carried them back to her room.

Once inside, he closed the door before placing the objects on the sofa. As his attention shifted, her returned to her side and sat down next to where she lay. Instead of being asleep, however, her eyes were slowly opening and she was looking around somewhat confused.

"Willy?" Her words abruptly broke into his thoughts. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep as we were coming back. Maybe sleep is what you need more than anything else," he said gently.

"I'm still tired but if I sleep anymore, I'll probably end up with bedsores," she complained. "I'd prefer to do something else."

"What would you like to do?" He asked.

"I don't know," she whispered as she emphatically shoved the covers aside and crawled out of bed. Once she was standing, she continue to speak, her next question catching him off guard. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm rather behind on my paperwork actually. I'm supposed to meet Charlie later to do some shipment schedules," he admitted. "I have to get caught up on that before I do anything else. You see, my dear, contrary to what you may be assuming, life is not always fun and games in this business. Charlie and I still have a factory to run."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she backed away from where he was standing. "I don't mean to distract you from your work."

"Don't worry," he said smiling as he reached for her hand. "I will admit to not always being the world's most proficient when it comes to taking care of things of that nature. I would generally prefer to be in the Inventing Room trying out new ideas. There are times when I'm not quite as disciplined as I should be."

"When you put it that way, experimenting with something new does sound a lot more interesting than paperwork," she mused. "Maybe I can help you with the paperwork though. I used to do a lot of filing and stuff at my old job. I would make photocopies, write letters, and even brewed some pretty decent coffee. If you tell me what to do then I can do it."

Willy smiled, his eyebrows arching somewhat mischievously. "And you say _I'm _amazing."

"You _are_ amazing," she said as she looked into his eyes. "Willy, you're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. Somehow you make everything wonderful just by being present," she whispered with unconcealed appreciation in her voice.

"I never really imagined that my presence could come to mean so much to another person," he said openly.

"It means more than you know," she whispered. "I said that you were sheltered, but the truth is, I really envy you."

"You envy me?" He asked softly. "Why?"

"I don't know, maybe it's the way you see the world."

"I don't understand," he said.

"It's like the mud, the stream, and the wildflowers. You see all those things as though you are seeing them for the very first time. It's like you have a whimsical way of seeing everything, and I think that it's something people like me have forgotten."

"Perhaps it's naïveté, but you see, those things were rather new to me," he admitted.

"No," she spoke, her voice filled with adamancy. "I'm not ever going to believe that you're naïve, because I know that you're not. It's just, there's something about you that's magical. It's like you hold something really powerful and meaningful in your hand. Then, when you share it with me, it makes me feel very special."

"You are special, Tamara. Perhaps more special than you have ever given yourself credit for being," he said.

She reached over and rested her hand on top of his. "Earlier today, when Bill and I were at the apartment, something happened to me. It was just before I confronted Neil and told him all the things that I wanted to say. Just before that happened, I saw your image drift through my mind."

"If you'll pardon me for saying so, that doesn't sound very flattering at all," he said smirking. "In fact, I am wont to say that perhaps you did want to yell at me after all."

"No, that's not it," she objected with an adamant shake of her head. "I would never compare you to Neil. What I'm trying to say is that even though you weren't present, you somehow gave me the courage that I needed to confront him. Through that and Bill's words, I was able to tell this man that I didn't want anything from him and that I never wanted to see him again. Earlier this morning, you asked me why I had his picture in my journal, but I couldn't really put it into words. Now, I know why I kept it for as long as I did."

"Why?" He asked.

"Practice," she said, her face flushing despite her best attempts at concealing it.

"I'm confused," he mused.

Tamara took a deep breath before beginning to speak. "I used it as a means of practicing what I wanted to say to him if ever the moment presented itself to me. For whatever reason, today, it did. Regardless of his threats or actions, I finally told him that I wanted my life back. But Willy, I think I had it back long before that even happened."

"You did," he affirmed. "You left Somerdale so that you could reclaim it."

"No, that's not what I'm trying to say at all," she took a deep breath. "When I left Somerdale, I ran away because I was scared, but I took control of my life when I allowed myself to…" her voice trailed off as she raised her head and looked at him. "…to fall in love again."

"You fell in love?" He asked.

With her gaze still on him, she nodded, her eyes now expressing far more than her words ever could. Instead of responding to him verbally, she bit down on her lower lip.

After several moments of silence had passed between them, Willy took a deep breath as he looked at her. His chest somehow felt tighter than it had ever felt before and his emotions were careening out of control.

He remembered the preceding days when he had tried to seek her forgiveness for the things that he had said and done. Those things alone left him feeling unworthy of her. Yet, here she was confessing the greatest secret she carried, all the while not even realizing the courage that dwelled in her spirit in doing so. She was not speaking verbally, she was speaking the language of the heart and right at that moment, his was literally racing.

Never had Willy Wonka been taken by a woman's shyness as he was at that moment. She could not even look at him and yet, her confession seemed to have jerked the rug right out from under him.

He took a deep breath, the words stuck in his throat, but for her, he had to speak them. "You're in love…" he repeated. "…with…_me_?"

Tamara raised her head and looked at him, her lips had curved into an anxious smile, but no words emerged. Instead, her eyes slowly closed as she nodded her head, her face abruptly taking on a reddish hue.

Nothing happened.

All she was capable of doing was standing there and waiting for him to process it.


	43. Chapter 42: Love and Silence

_Welcome to this latest chapter. Because of the low response, I have decided to post installments whenever I feel motivated to. These chapters take a lot of time and effort for me to put together because I am a perfectionist about them. I want the stuff to be good and so I do appreciate the people who are reading and giving me their thoughts. Because of the lack of response, it seriously makes me wonder if the story is any good or if I should even start any more multi-chapter efforts here at all after I finish posting this one._

_Thanks to those of you who have told me that this is not a wasted effort. I guess sometimes even I need a little bit of a push in the right direction. It is really greatly appreciated. You have my gratitude. _

_Thanks to my reviewers for taking the time to let me know how this is going. There's no point in my making you wait any longer for the next bit. Enjoy, with my thanks. Oh and if you think that this seems a bit rushed, well consider this: My husband and I met and fell in love in a week's time, and we've been married over 13 years. To us it's probably more realistic than just about anything else I've written._

_Yva_

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**Chapter 42: Love and Silence**

Tamara held her breath for several moments.

It was no secret, she half expected him to raise his hands in negation and tell her that he had no interest in a romantic relationship with her. She did not know why she doubted herself, but she did. To top it off, there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to run away and hide in a corner.

If only she had managed to keep the truth from emerging. They could have kept things the way they were; friendly and platonic with a few stolen kisses thrown in for good measure.

She was seriously starting to believe in what Neil had been telling her. His words had emotionally torn her to pieces.

What if she was not good enough for Willy Wonka?

Even if you are, her thoughts continued to lay waste to her logic, he's probably too busy, already taken, or married to his work. It's likely that he only cared for you because of empathy or guilt.

Unbeknownst to the chocolatier, the internalized war with words continued to seize her conscience and not let go.

Guilt…guilt…guilt, echoed in her mind like the ticking of a clock.

Unconsciously, she bit down on her lower lip.

Silence followed, and to Tamara, it could only be interpreted as the confectioner formulating his words of rejection.

Oh God, do say something, please, she silently willed him, but her words did not emerge. Instead a lump the size of a bowling ball seemed to lodge itself in the back of her throat, thus making it even more difficult for her to breathe or much less, to speak.

When she felt a stray tear slipping from beneath one of her eyes, she stubbornly wiped it away with the back of her hand, her gaze still locked on him. She was trying everything she could to keep herself from crying. This notion of imminent loss somehow loomed over her.

For his part, Willy watched her every move, his eyes taking in the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He had known that she cared for him, those feelings she conveyed had somehow started to make their presence known that morning she had experienced the aftermath of her nightmare.

Of course, he could not even begin to hope that she might feel something towards him that went beyond friendship. Inhaling slowly, he remembered how he had kidnapped her and held her against her will. How was it that she had found love amidst all of his mistakes?

It was suddenly clear to him that the blame he still carried was hindering his pursuit of the young, insecure, and fearful lady.

This situation was more unpredictable than he could have surmised. In fact, they were both now sailing on uncharted waters and there was no knowing where they were going.

As opposed to continuing to allow her to second-guess the uncertainty of that moment, he reached over and captured her face with both of his hands, his thumbs lightly touching her lower lip, thus causing her to release it.

It had only been about a minute since her confession, yet it seemed as though time had stood still for both of them and after what seemed like an eternity, Willy spoke. "Oh Tamara," he said, his soft words emerging as an exhalation of breath.

"I'm being silly, aren't I?" She asked insecurely.

"No, of course not," he whispered, his hold on her face becoming all the more insistent as he pulled her closer to him. "You're very brave."

"You said that when we were coming back, but I still don't believe it," she whispered. "Willy, I'm scared." As she spoke, she tried to focus on him, but could not.

She closed her eyes, and at that moment, she had no way of knowing what was going to happen next. She could not see that his lips were now curved up in a gentle smile. "Why are you afraid?" He eventually asked. "Did I do something that frightened you?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just that I'm not like Belinda, and I'm afraid that you might think I am."

"Tamara, I know that you're not," he said. "You have nothing to worry about, dearest lady."

"But Willy, I didn't plan for this to happen," she whispered as she clasped her hands together.

"No one ever does," he said softly. "Perhaps that's why they call it 'falling' in love. If it was planned or anticipated, then no one would be afraid of it. They would have to call it something else now, wouldn't they?" He reached over and touched her face. "Look at me, Tamara." Once she did as he asked, he continued speaking. "If you were anything like Belinda, then I could never have fallen in love with you."

It took Tamara several moments to process his words. However, once the implication had dawned on her that her feelings were being returned, she shyly licked her lips and shook her head as though in denial. "Y-you do?" She asked meekly.

"Like you really need to ask me that?" He nodded slowly as his next words seemed to take on the same rhythm as his heartbeat. "I've been in love with you since the night I stole that first kiss. I just wasn't sure what to call it at the time because it has never really happened to me before." He smiled shyly at her. "The truth is, I didn't want to hurt you, so I tried to just be a friend and suppress my feelings. That's why I said that you were brave just now. You had the courage to tell me how you felt, and I couldn't." He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his curly hair. "Everything happened so quickly, and you know that I made mistakes, but what I feel for you is no mistake, Tamara."

As these words emerged, the whole world suddenly stopped.

She did not even know if she had started to breathe again because no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, there was no mistaking what he had said.

This wonderfully unique and eccentric man had confessed the very same feelings…to her.

His gaze remained on her, never daring to move away. He took a step closer to her, filling that small gap that was still between them. He moved his hands so that they could cradle the back of her neck, the lightness of his touch literally drawing her into a hypnotic trance.

"I love you," she whispered, not really certain if the words were even audible. In fact, at that moment, she had no idea what was real and what was not. Somehow everything; light, sound, and color seemed to mesh together leaving her practically limp in his masterful arms.

Seconds slowly ticked by and she felt him moving his hands only slightly so that his thumbs could stroke her cheeks. Then with almost agonizing slowness, he tipped up her chin while at the same moment, lowered his head until his lips captured hers in a loving kiss.

They remained in this stance for several moments, the kiss sweet, but somewhat timid. Seconds later, the chocolatier straightened out, his arms still wrapped securely around her. With her upper back in his firm, but gentle hold, he lifted her off the floor and her feet abruptly left the ground.

At that moment, all she could sense was the gentleness of his lips pressed against hers.

Of course, this did not stop Willy Wonka's mind from literally reeling. As he held her in his arms, his thoughts were whirling about faster than a tornado in a trailer park. _Let's see,_ _two grams of butterscotch toffee will perfect the gumdrop recipe…send out the shipments by the end of the month so they will make it to London on time…the paperwork can wait until tomorrow…Right now this time is ours…oh she is so beautiful._

Instead of voicing any of these thoughts or concerns, Willy allowed the kiss to break before he swept her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. Sitting down on the edge of it, he felt her body now resting comfortably in his lap.

As his breathing became somewhat heavier, he kissed her again, but this time instead of keeping it timid, he allowed his tongue to lightly brush against her lips. As if reading his mind, she allowed her lips to part beneath his gentle persuasion.

Immediately, she felt his tongue brushing up against her own. The abrupt taste of chocolate and mint filled her as she felt the softness of his kiss forcing her to raise her hands and mesh them into his curly blond hair.

Withdrawing for a split second, she moaned his name softly. "Willy."

"Tamara," he spoke her name in the same manner as though they were in the middle of playing a game. A soft chuckle emerged from him, followed by silence.

Hearing his single word, she allowed her eyes to slowly open and she saw a slight smirk shadowing his features. She smiled as she felt his fingers lightly brushing their way through her hair.

Expertly, he once more pulled her closer, his lips seeking hers.

_Chocolate contains endorphins, and gives one the feeling of being in love…_

These thoughts ravaged her mind, but this time it was not chocolate that was doing this to her. Willy's kisses were like a drug, the more she received, the more she craved. In fact, it somehow it felt as though she had consumed a hundred Marshmallow Rounds in one sitting and was now sitting in a candy induced euphoria.

No, this was a far cry better than that because Willy now held her in the palm of his hand. His touch, his kiss, everything about him captured and would not let her go.

Tamara knew consciously that this was far more dangerous than either Neil or Belinda, because in this state, she completely trusted the chocolatier. He could have done anything he wished and she would have accepted it wholeheartedly.

As her own breathing became somewhat haggard, she could feel him drawing away from her, the overt gentleman that he was somehow reading the same danger that she had surmised. He remained seated with her still on his lap, but his lips were now drawn up in that coy, yet irresistible, smirk.

"Willy, that was…" she began to speak, her voice trailing off. She wanted to say 'wonderful', but it seemed like too many syllables for her to verbally stumble over. It was clear that right at that moment, her body was, by its own admission, craving more of his loving attention.

"…Delicious," he spoke, but his eyes remained on her and he leaned in and gave her another soft kiss. This time, he moved his hands to her shoulders, his fingers lightly touching the cusp of her dress.

For her part, Tamara allowed her hands to lower from his tousled hair to brush against the top of his white shirt. Before she could dip her fingers beneath the fabric and touch the skin below the collar, she felt herself being shifted out of his lap and lowered against the pillows.

As the gentle coolness of them hugged the back of her neck, she could feel the pressure of his hands shifting until they rested against her shoulders.

She wanted him to kiss her again, she knew it, and without thinking about her actions, she reached out towards him and touched his lips. With her finger still against his mouth, she closed her eyes as the tears once again escaped from beneath the lids.

Before she could even utter a sound, Willy did, his words now laced in concern. "You're crying. Did I hurt you?"

"No," she whispered. "You couldn't."

"But, you're sad," he said.

She shook her head. "No, I'm happy," she whispered despite the tears that were still streaming down over her face. "I never thought I could feel this way about anyone."

"But you're still leaking," he said with a soft chuckle, as he brushed the side of his hand against her cheeks and wiped the moisture away.

She laughed softly. "I don't mean to."

He continued to rub his thumb against her cheek, and once the moisture was gone, he moved his hand and touched her lips, which were now red and a little swollen from the loving kisses they had shared.

Seconds slowly ticked by and he moved away from her so that he could crawl into the bed and lie down beside her. As she rolled over onto her side, she regarded him through heavily lidded eyes.

This, if anything, indicated to him that contrary to her not wanting to sleep, that she was still exhausted and needed it. Perhaps that would do her a world of good since her adrenaline rush had apparently ended.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, her face coming to rest against him, the softness of his shirt tickling her.

"I love you more than anything," she whispered softly, her voice muffled against his chest. "I can't explain why, though."

"'The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of'," Willy whispered softly. _(Blaise Pascal) _As he spoke, he leaned down and brushed his lips against the top of her head. Withdrawing, his next question emerged in a barely audible whisper. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

"I don't know," she whispered as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to rest cradled in the sanctuary of his arms. "Please don't leave me, Willy…"

"…I won't," he promised. "Just try and rest now."

She nodded, but contrary to her unwillingness to go sleep, she eventually drifted off.

Forgetting the paperwork as well as everything else he had intended on doing that evening, Willy remained wrapped in the cocoon of her warmth.

He closed his eyes. "I love you and I will do everything I can to protect you," he swore under his breath just before he, too, fell asleep.


	44. Chapter 43: Digging for Information

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter of the story. Before I present this chapter to you, I have to say that I really am grateful to all of you for the reviews and for your understanding. Due to some not so nice events in my life, it really has come to mean a great deal to me that you are supporting this story. Sorry that I haven't posted the installment before now, but things have been rather trying during the past week._

_As I get my life back in order, I hope that you'll forgive me for the time that passes between the installments presented. It was not the review issue that prevented me from posting this time, it was personal issues that I will not go into here._

_So, thanks again to my reviewers and please enjoy the latest chapter._

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**Chapter 43: Digging For Information  
**

After the trip to the candy shop, Belinda was absolutely enraged. She returned to her apartment building and beheld a surprise as she came in through the main door and into the hallway that extended from the front to the back of the building.

Hostility melted away to confusion when she noticed that all around the hallway, the neighbors had gathered to whisper and gossip amongst themselves about what had transpired in their midst. Their dialogues ceased immediately when they spotted her coming down the hall in their direction. Her hands were digging in the side pocket of her purse in search for her keys, but when she saw the red and white colored police tape affixed across her doorway, she raised her head and sought some sort of explanation from someone.

She peered over the tape into the recesses of the apartment, but seeing nothing that gave away what had happened, she slowly backed away from the doorway.

For a split second, Belinda feared the worst, that Tamara was dead and that Neil was the suspect of homicide. She pondered whether or not Neil had resorted to murder and this made her blood run cold. She wanted Willy Wonka, but this was heavy duty stuff, and she was not sure, even with her gun, if she was even capable of killing her roommate.

She stopped everything she was doing, even breathing, when she saw a man emerging from the apartment. He was dressed in a typical blue colored policeman's uniform. Eying the small badge that covered the jacket pocket, she spoke. "Excuse me, Constable? What's going on?" She asked as she started towards the door a second time.

The man stopped walking and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Miss, but you can't go in there," he said, his voice laced in matter-of-factness.

"Why not? I live here," she said.

"My name is Constable Justin Owens, and my partner and I were notified earlier today about what had taken place here." As he spoke, he pulled out his identification and showed it to her. Once she could see that it was legitimate, he returned it to his pocket and pulled out a notepad. "May I ask your name?"

"Belinda Hutchinson," she said, but within seconds her voice had taken on an indignant tone. "When can I go back in?"

"That depends on when we finish trying to figure out what specifically happened here this afternoon," he said firmly. "We have reason to believe that there was a break-in. Several of the rooms look as though someone had burglarized the place."

"Burglarized?" Belinda repeated the word that stood out in her mind.

"Well, one of the rooms, in particular, has been completely turned upside down," he said. "Whoever did this might come back and that could put anyone occupying the place in danger."

"There's no danger, my roommate's a slob," she lied. "Look, I need to at least get some things out of my room. Couldn't you let me pass to do that?"

The policeman continued to shake his head, "I can't let you do that, it would contaminate the crime scene."

"You don't get it, my fingerprints are all over the place anyway, I live here," Belinda objected.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot let you gain access for another three maybe four hours," he said as he dug in his pocket and fished out a business card and handed it to her. He did not tell her that she was a suspect, but instead tried to keep everything as professional as he could.

As he started to make his way back down the hallway, she raised her head and called out to him. "Do you at least know where my roommate is?"

The police officer stopped walking before turning around. "Did she tell you where she went?"

"No, she didn't say a word. When I got back and saw this tape over the door, I thought that she was dead or something," she looked at the policeman.

"No," Owens responded with a shake of his head. "There was an attempted murder, but when we got here, Tamara Jenkins was just fine. She ended up leaving with her friend."

"Her friend?" Belinda asked. "Who would that be?"

"He gave us his name, but I can't remember. It was William something, I believe," he said.

"William?" She whispered, her face going completely white. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he introduced himself to my colleague and myself just before we took her statement," he said with a casual nod. "He said that if we needed to contact her that we could do so through his business. Perhaps you know this person?"

"No," Belinda said softly, but her thoughts were literally reeling. A policeman would not lie, but she pondered why it was that he did not tell her the surname of the friend who was with Tamara. It was William, her William. Of this she was now absolutely certain.

Before she could react to anything, Owens suddenly thought of something and his next question emerged. "That reminds me, Miss Hutchinson, were you aware that Neil Kirkwood's former girlfriend filed stalking charges against him, and she was ready to file them against you as well?"

"Against me, but why?" Belinda asked. This time the innocence that laced her question was real and not forced. She had no idea why it was that Tamara would ever want to do anything like that against her. Before she could say anything further, the policeman continued speaking.

"She claimed that you were the one who destroyed her bedroom. Now, both she and her friend seem to be of the mindset that you called Mr. Kirkwood as a means to get her out of the way," he said. "Is there any truth to that?"

"Am I under arrest on the basis of my roommate's twisted suspicions?" Belinda asked earnestly. "Everyone who knows her, knows that she is not well. The reason I called her boyfriend was because she had disappeared and I was worried about her. I hadn't seen her since Monday."

The policeman took a deep breath. "That may be the case, but that's why we have to follow protocol in this matter. Now if you'll excuse me, I still have work to do, but I can assure you that in about four hours, you should be able to return to your apartment."

With that, the policeman walked away, and she was left standing and staring after him.

If no one was murdered, then I should be able to go inside and get my things, she thought, but before she could so much as follow through with that particular intention, another officer stepped out of the apartment; this one a female.

How could Tamara have even been at the apartment that afternoon? She asked herself as she started to make her way back down the hall towards the door that would lead outside.

Before she could reach it however, the elderly woman who lived next door came down the hall in her direction. Her aged eyes sought Belinda's and seemed to be filled with concern. "Excuse me, young lady," she called out, her voice filling the hallway, thus causing several heads to turn.

Belinda unconsciously cringed, but still waited for the other woman to reach her. The neighbor was the same woman who had paid her a visit after she had set off the smoke alarm and she cursed her bad luck. Once she had reached where Belinda was standing, she offered her a cordial smile.

"My dear, are you alright?" She began to speak, her voice laced in worry. "For some reason, I was afraid that you were caught up in some kind of dramatic circumstance."

"What do you mean?" Belinda asked. "I've been gone all day."

"There was a man in your apartment, and that poor girl who lives with you came back. After she did, I heard a great deal of commotion," the woman reported. "I saw her arriving with a man I had never seen before."

"Are you saying that the policeman was right and that Tamara was here?" Belinda asked. "When?"

"About three hours ago," the neighbor said. "She came down the hallway with some sharply dressed gentleman. Abruptly, she stopped for a moment before they both went into the apartment. They seemed rather distracted and I didn't stop and talk to them, but I did see her. She looked to be a bit out of sorts, and as soon as the two of them had gone in, all heck broke loose. I could hear all sorts of cross words being exchanged even from my place with the front door closed. They were shouting something terrible, and then I heard something that sounded like someone was being thrown across the room. I kept hoping that you were both alright. It was quite dreadful, to know that those two men were in there, and that poor girl was stuck in the middle."

"What were they saying exactly?" Belinda asked, her interest now piqued. She was determined to find out what had happened, and it seemed perfectly clear that Neil had returned from the candy shop in time to intercept her roommate.

These events now meant that she, herself, would have to figure out a means of getting Tamara out of the picture. In fact, based on the words of the constable, Willy Wonka was taking it upon himself to get involved with Tamara's situation. He was, no doubt, the William who had come to the building, and was now eating out of Tamara's hand.

Belinda's expression abruptly darkened. The thought of Tamara being wrapped in her William's arms was too much for her to bear. She would have to know what had happened and this neighbor was probably chomping at the bit to tell her. "What did you hear?" She eventually asked, her voice dull.

"Well, it was strange, but they were speaking of, of all people, Willy Wonka," the woman said as though sharing a community secret with an outsider.

Belinda's eyes widened. "Really?" Her question emerged and despite herself, her fists clenched in unspeakable hostility and jealousy.

"Oh yes," the neighbor babbled on. "Of course, all of this seemed to add to what happened this morning."

"What happened?" Belinda parroted back.

"Well, just this morning when Henry and I were sitting down for breakfast, Willy Wonka's glass elevator flew right past this building. It hung just outside one of the windows before disappearing over the town. I saw it just outside the window as though suspended in midair. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. It was such a beautiful thing, gold with glass surrounding it. It looked rather like a gemstone."

"Willy Wonka has a glass elevator?" Belinda asked.

"He sure does, but I have not seen the likes of it since the day of the Golden Ticket contest tour three years ago. You're not from this town, so you don't know of his legendary presence here," she said.

"No, I suppose I don't," Belinda mused. "What is a glass elevator exactly?"

"I can't say for certain what it is, as I had never really had a chance to see it very closely. While I did see it this morning, I must admit to having needed my spectacles." She smiled, her expression taking on a faraway look.

"That doesn't answer my question," Belinda groused.

"I'm sorry dear," the neighbor said smiling. "I can't really tell you much about it, but I can tell you what everyone here knows." She paused. "According to the local paper, right after Willy Wonka reopened the factory, his invention was spotted flying over the town. No one thought of the connection between it and the Golden Ticket tour. In fact, there was all sorts of sightings as well as speculation about it. People thought it might have been a UFO, and some even started asserting that the aliens were landing. It was a load of poppycock, but people assumed what they wanted to. Soon after that, Mr. Wonka, held a press conference and told the local media about his invention and that it was a flying glass elevator. Basically, that squelched the rest of their speculation, but it did gain its own notoriety." She smiled as she continued speaking. "I always thought that in doing that, he showed everyone that he was a considerate young man.

"At any rate, today, for the first time since that fateful afternoon, I saw it again and it was such a beautiful thing to see. I heard he is quite proud of it, and from what I have seen, I can fully understand why. It's such a pretty thing. I wonder what it would be like to fly inside of it."

Belinda took a deep breath, her thoughts shifting back to the strange gold colored object she had seen just outside of Tamara's room earlier that morning. "I thought I saw something today, too. Later I figured that it was just the light playing tricks on me."

"No, dear, you live in this town long enough, and you will discover that some miraculous and mysterious things can, and actually do, happen. Quite special, if you ask me. Of course, I waved to him, but I am not quite certain if he was able to see me. The sun was shining directly through the window just so. That makes it hard to tell if Mr. Wonka was able to see inside of the house. Of course, I don't take him as the sort of man who would try and peek into our breakfast room, if you know what I mean."

Finishing her story, the neighbor smiled gently, but patted her hand. "At any rate, I'm glad that you're alright, dear, but right now, I must be off. I still have to go to the market," she said. "Have you anything to occupy yourself until you can return home?"

"Yes, I thought about going for a walk, this is a lot of stuff for me to have to take in," she said softly.

Once the neighbor had walked away, Belinda took a deep breath. It was no mistake, she concluded. From what the woman had said, this glass elevator had actually been outside the building.

But, why?

It could not have been a mistake. Willy Wonka had been there, and perhaps he was the same person who had come back with Tamara.

It seemed to add up. Tamara's friend being named William, and the sighting of the elevator outside their window. If that didn't affirm Belinda's suspicions, then nothing would.


	45. Chapter 44: Realizations

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. I want to give a shout out to my reviewers with my sincerest thanks for your continued support. Otherwise, I'm going to just jump into this chapter._

_I like this one because it talks about heroes, and how they emerge in the most simple of places. I hope that you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_Take care and enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 44: Realizations**

After leaving the apartment building, Belinda made her way along the now empty street, her eyes staring straight ahead. It was still light outside, but within the hour, dusk would fall and she would be able to return home.

For whatever reason, she could not bring herself to even think logically about what had transpired. After all, everything that had happened was predominantly based on hearsay.

Contrary to the fact that her assumptions were inaccurate, she was thoroughly convinced that the William who was sighted with Tamara had actually been Willy Wonka. Reason argued that the policeman simply could not remember the surname, but Belinda's wayward thinking had cast all of these arguments off.

Logic tried without success at arguing the point that William was a pretty common name. Of course, common sense was the one thing that Belinda had tossed to the wind days ago. At that moment, her deliberations had recklessly careened into the realm of schemes and cover-ups.

What if Constable Owens simply did not wish to disclose the man's name at all? What if he was trying to divert the focus away from Willy Wonka and Tamara Jenkins entirely? At this point, Belinda believed that her roommate had asked the constable to keep all of this a secret from her. Maybe the only reason he had stumbled over the name in the first place, was a means in which to hide or conceal a romantic relationship between her roommate and the reclusive chocolatier.

It suddenly felt to Belinda as though everyone in this town was out to thwart any of her attempts at catching Willy Wonka's attention.

First that slimy candy store owner and his teenage cohort, then the police and finally that nosy neighbor. The elderly woman, although friendly, did not tell her adequately enough about the glass elevator that would satisfy her curiosity. From the way her luck was going, the chances seemed more or less a given that they were all in cahoots with one another.

Everything is just too damn coincidental, she thought scornfully.

After several moments of contemplation had passed, she abruptly stopped walking and stood stationary at the end of the long street. At one end of it, she turned back around to see the direction in which she had come. At the other end of the esplanade, she found herself staring up at the smokestacks of the behemoth sized factory. From just about any point in this town, one could see something of the factory. Even on those rainy and cloudy days, Willy Wonka's massive structure stood out like a beacon in the night.

Belinda took a deep breath as she stared at the light that blinked the name Wonka on and off. She watched as each letter became illuminated in the equal intervals of time. For some reason, the prolonged staring caused tears to catch in the corners of her eyes.

I'm prettier than Tamara and I'm a better dresser, too, she thought sadly. Why would he be interested in her and not me? I did everything that I could to catch his attention and show him that I am better than she is. I just wanted him to notice that I exist.

If only there was a way I could do something to show him that I am the better choice.

Her thoughts continued to spiral away with her, the words and feelings leaving a confused and embittered woman in their wake.

It was no secret, she knew that she had perhaps been wrong to call Neil Kirkwood for assistance. Things would probably never have twisted so far out of her control if she had tried to find another means in which to unearth her elusive roommate.

Maybe it was not too late for her to act. After all, the fiasco with Neil was a simple mistake that could have happened to anyone. I would be willing to wager that if the cops actually read through Tamara's journal, they would have reached the very same conclusion that I did, she thought angrily.

Now more than ever, Belinda had somehow coerced herself into believing the notion that Tamara was still very much attracted to Neil. The events that had transpired at her apartment had been nothing more than a tragic mistake.

No matter how hard she tried to rationalize all of this, she knew that none of this made any sense to her. Based entirely on what the police had said, Belinda was rumored to have put her roommate in a very precarious situation. Luckily, the neighbors did not yet know the intricacies of all of this. Of course, she still wondered if the words of biased cops would still leave an impact on her.

Shaking her head in denial, Belinda knew that the only thing she could do now was try and figure out why it was she had been kicked out of her apartment that afternoon.

The people who had seen Tamara had said that she looked out of sorts, but despite their words, Belinda was still quite angry with her roommate. The police had even gone so far as to say that Tamara's room had been burglarized, but that was not the case at all.

Belinda knew that if she had told them that in a fit of rage, she had ransacked it, then she would have found herself in even more trouble. A little white lie was perhaps her best defense against any sort of counter action.

By this time, she had reached the gate that separated the street from the property and wound her hands around the iron bars that surrounded the front perimeters of the chocolate factory. As she held tightly to them, the image of prison bars suddenly flashed through her mind. Letting go of them, she backed fiercely away from the gate, her breathing now heavy.

"I haven't done anything wrong," she whispered as she tried futilely at calming herself down. "They can't send me to jail for loving someone."

"I beg your pardon?" A voice suddenly emerged as she turned around.

Standing about a meter away from her, was the very same man she had seen with the little boy several days ago. He abruptly stopped next to where she was standing and for his part, peered in between the black bars and into the factory courtyard. "Did you say something?" He asked.

"No, nothing," Belinda said weakly all the while hoping that the man would leave her alone with her thoughts.

No such luck, instead of walking away, he tried to engage her in dialogue. "Did you manage to find the post office the other day?"

"Yes," she said. "I had no problem with that because I've lived here long enough to know my way around."

He nodded and offered her a cordial smile contrary to her abrupt manner. "That's good." He took another deep breath as his next words emerged. "I'm Ted Fitzgerald."

"Belinda Hutchinson," she offered freely.

"It's nice to meet you, again," he said smiling. "We seem to cross paths now and again at this particular juncture, don't we?"

She nodded as she closed her eyes. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"So, are you a fan of Willy Wonka's candy?" He asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"That's good, because contrary to all the challenges he has faced, he is still is the greatest candy maker in the world, and sometimes needs outside support with his work. Wouldn't you agree?" He asked.

"Challenges?" She asked as opposed to offering a simple 'yes' or 'no' response to his inquiry.

Ted nodded. "Yes, he went through a great deal of grief about ten years ago when he had to fire his workers. You see, I was one of them."

"Were you angry?" She asked all the while remembering how livid she had been in the wake of having lost her own job.

"Maybe a little," he said. Instead of speaking further, he raised his head as something in the sky caught his eye and he was left staring at what looked to be a speck of gold dotting the horizon.

Following his gaze, Belinda spotted the same object floating over the complex and sinking down between two of the buildings. She stared at it until it had disappeared. Eventually, she turned to see that Ted carried a happy, almost contemplative, expression on his face.

Belinda wanted to ask him why he was so fascinated with it, but figured that he would explain his awe soon enough.

When his next words emerged, her unasked question was answered.

"I never thought in a million years that I would see Mr. Wonka's crazy invention again," he said with an approving nod.

It seemed clear to her that he was regarding it in such a way that indicated that he knew the object quite well. Perhaps that was part of his task when he had been employed at the factory. Instead of commenting on the now easily recognizable glass elevator, she opted to playing a bit dumb.

"You know of it?" She asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "You may not believe me, but when I said just now that I worked for him, it was the truth. Most of the people who live here in town actually did as well. Mr. Wonka had a huge employ and I was one of his electricians."

"So that means you've been inside?" She asked, her interest in this man suddenly piqued.

"It was a long time ago, and before you ask me if I could get you inside, my nephew asks me almost incessantly if I could introduce him to Willy Wonka. The answer is 'no, I cannot'. The factory is locked up tighter than Fort Knox and there's no way for anyone to get in."

"You were an electrician, but what did you do there?" She asked.

"Nothing exciting," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "I actually helped maintain the glass elevator as well as make sure other electrical aspects of the factory were running smoothly."

"If everything was so great, then why did he fire you?" She asked.

"It was the fault of some jerk who sold him out to the highest bidder. Later; I realized that it must have been a very difficult decision for him to have made." Ted shrugged his shoulders. "After having met him on a couple of occasions, I realized that he has it much harder than the rest of us. He's a human being with flaws and imperfections to contend with and yet people still think he's perfect. They fall in love with the fame and somehow convince themselves into thinking that he is better or more special than us 'average Joes'."

"But, he is special," she whispered.

"Perhaps and far be for me to say that we don't have a right to have our heroes," he said firmly. "I have mine too, but he's not a super confectioner, he's my older brother."

"Your brother?" She asked.

"Yes, he's a forest ranger at the national park up near Somerdale," he said. "He saved an entire family after they had a terrible hiking accident last year. After the family returned home, my brother's heroic deed was pretty much forgotten. Of course, I think he preferred it that way. To me that's a hero. Now grant it, perhaps Willy Wonka could be a hero to some, but to me, he's just another guy who puts his pants on one leg at a time."

"I still wish I could meet him, though," she whispered all the while not even stopping to consider that she actually did meet him that very day at Bill's candy shop.

"Well, in this town, you might possibly cross paths with him, but don't be too disappointed if you don't. After all, he is the most prominent recluse in the world. He's so good at it, he could probably hold seminars for monks on how to withdraw from society." Despite himself, Ted smiled at his analogy.

Belinda shook her head as she wrapped her arms around her body and stared up at the factory. "One day I will meet him," she muttered under her breath.

Ted nodded as he started to back away from her. "Well, good luck with that. For some reason, I have the feeling that you're most definitely going to need it." He backed slowly away from the factory, his gaze shifting away from Belinda.

The woman watched as her new acquaintance left her standing alone in front of the gate. As opposed to offering some parting words, she shifted her attention back in the direction of the factory.

After several minutes had passed of her staring at the large structure, she started to back away from the gate herself. Sighing sadly, she began her trek back to her apartment building.

She hoped that that the police would be finished with their work so that she could get back inside and start cleaning things up. As she walked, Ted's words continued to whirl about in her mind.

By the time she had reached the building, the overwhelming relief filled her when she noticed that the police were now gone and their cruisers had finally dispersed.

Making her way back inside the building, her thoughts shifted back to her roommate and away from Ted's logic.

There has to be a way, were the last thoughts that crossed her mind as she closed herself in for the night.


	46. Chapter 45: Love's Subtle Complication

_Hello everyone and welcome to the latest installment to this story. This chapter is a bit shorter as I had some things to do during the past days and didn't get to it. I wanted to give a shout out to my reviewers for their support. YaYa and Lysi Marie, your support is greatly appreciated during this time when everyone's busy or on holiday. Also, I wanted to give a shout out to Stealth Phoenix for the supportive PMs. It helps with the writing and presentation of these stories._

_Here's hoping that you enjoy the latest installment. It's a bit shorter, but sometimes that can't be helped. The next chapters will hopefully be longer._

_If you want, you can let me know if the installments are too short, I won't mind, and will try and be more accommodating. I just don't know how many words is too many. I do tend to try and average between 4 and 6 pages per installment, but it may be prudent for me to write more. Just let me know in your reviews, or send a PM._

_With that said, enjoy the little bit of a cliffhanger I present here._

_Yva_

* * *

**Chapter 45: Love's Subtle Complication**

Early the following morning, Willy stirred and opened his eyes. The room was now bathed in darkness, but the soft purplish hues in the distant horizon indicated to him that dawn was about to break. The night had passed with him holding Tamara tightly in his arms, the sheets covering them gently and their bodies buried beneath them.

He cast a casual glance around the room, but smiled as he felt her cuddling her way closer to him. "Are you awake?" He whispered softly, but did not receive any answer. Instead what he heard was a soft and contented sounding sigh emerging from between her pursed lips.

Instead of speaking further, he inched closer to her warmth, his eyes closing as his thoughts began to drift. So this is what it felt like to be in love, he thought contentedly, I like it. This was the most rewarding thing that he could have contemplated and he realized that he could not imagine waking up every morning without feeling her next to him. What have I missed during all these years alone? He asked himself, the smile never leaving his face.

Looking over at her, Willy somehow knew beyond any doubt that as long as he had her in his life, then there would be enough bliss for both of them. He cast a glance over towards the nightstand where two more Marshmallow Rounds lay.

Without further contemplation, he reached over her for one of the candy bars. As soon as he held it, he began to methodically unwrap it. "Tamara," he whispered her name as she stirred and started to open her eyes. Turning her head, she found herself facing in the direction of where his voice had originated.

"Willy?" She whispered his name as the reality of the night before washed over her. She felt a small smile touching her lips as she reached over and touched his face, her fingers somehow affirming for her that this was all real, and that he was lying there next to her. "This is real, somehow I thought it might be a dream."

He smiled. "No, my dear, it's very real."

In response to this, she leaned over and brushed her hand through his curly locks of hair. "I suppose that sounded kind of stupid, didn't it?" she whispered.

"Not really," he said softly as he managed to extract the candy from the wrapper. His expression was filled with happiness as he held the bar of chocolate in a teasing manner in front of her nose.

"Are you going to share that with me?" She whispered softly to him as she lowered her hand from his hair and started to reach for the candy. "Or did you intend on teasing me with it?"

He broke off a piece of the candy and smirked. "Open wide." His quirky voice filled her ears, but instead, she raised her head and looked into the loving blue eyes of the chocolatier.

She opened her mouth with the intention of accepting his offering. When he did not give her the candy, but instead teasingly pulled it away, she pouted. "Willy."

In response to this, he leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss before backing up and giving her a coy smirk. "Alright, my little chocolate craved lady," he said as he gave her the bite.

Seconds slowly ticked by as she felt his fingers against her lips just before tasting the sweetness of the candy. Instead of speaking, she simply allowed it to melt on her tongue.

Willy continued to stare down at her, but as he watched her swallowing the bite of candy, he spoke, his earlier thoughts emerging. "Tamara, what have I really missed out on during all these years when I have been alone?" He touched her face, his fingers lightly stroking her cheek. "Thich Nhat Hanh once said, 'sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.' I think that's just a little bit mixed up, because it is _your_ smile that is the source of _my_ joy."

She smiled as his words washed over her. "That's so beautiful," she whispered, but after several seconds, she took a deep breath. "You don't regret anything, do you?" She asked insecurely.

"I have only one regret, Tamara, and you already know what that is, but if you are wondering if I have any regrets about us, the answer is none," he said with an adamant shake of his head. "What about you?"

She shook her head as she felt him taking her gently in his arms and pulling her closer. As she felt the firmness of his chest against one side of her face, she responded by wrapping her arms around him. "I feel like the luckiest woman in the world," she whispered.

He smiled as his next words emerged, the sincerity of them filling the room. "One thing is certain, I know that there is nothing left for me to regret if I can wake up with you in my arms every single day."

She smiled as his words washed over her. "I think I'd like that," she whispered softly as she raised her head and her lips hungrily sought his.

Obliging her, Willy pulled her even closer and with his hands now framing her face, he pressed his lips against hers, the need and desire almost overwhelming him.

At that moment, someone knocked at the door and withdrawing, he released a pent up, almost annoyed breath.

For her part, Tamara began to giggle at the confectioner's overwhelming disappointment at having been interrupted. "Impeccable timing," she whispered.

"True, but who would be paying us a visit at such an early hour? My workers are generally not up until seven," He mused.

She shrugged her shoulders as nervousness started to overwhelm her. "Maybe it's someone with news about Belinda," she offered weakly.

Contrary to their initial amusement, the mood abruptly shifted at the mention of the stalker's name. With a somber look now crossing his face, Willy cuddled back up to her. "Then they can wait," he whispered, all the while not wanting to leave her side.

Seconds later, the knocking became even more persistent and he looked at her apologetically. "I suppose I ought to go and find out who that is before they break down the door," he mumbled.

Unwillingly, he started to crawl his way out of bed. As he stood up, he began to pat down his unruly hair before making his way across the room and over towards the door.

"We can continue later," she said to his retreating back.

"I'll hold you to that," he said as he turned around and she nearly laughed when she saw an unabashed smile on his face.

"Perhaps, but didn't you say you had paperwork to contend with?" She asked.

"That was last night, and you are now witness to the fact that I do sometimes get easily distracted," he said coyly, but his blue eyes became playful as his next question emerged. "Is your offer still good to help me with it?"

"Of course," she said.

"Good, the beautiful lady has once again come to my rescue," he chuckled as he turned away from her and reached the door. Just before opening it, he turned on the light and allowed the brightness to fill the room.

Pulling the door open, he forced a smile as he regarded the blue eyes of Charlie Bucket. His apprentice was standing in the doorway and it looked as though the teenager was ready to leave for school. At the same time, there was something in his protégé's eyes that seemed to spell the word 'trouble'. Willy cast a casual glance over towards the clock on the wall, which affirmed that the teenager had a good two hours before he was due at his first lesson.

This is most certainly not over, Willy thought to himself as he rubbed his hand through his hair, the spring-like coils giving away far more than his words ever could. He would have to explain to his apprentice that the improbable had actually happened.

The chocolatier had gone and fallen in love.

From looking into the eyes of the teenager, Willy could somehow surmise that Charlie already knew.

* * *

As Willy stepped out of the room and into the corridor, he regarded the teenager. "What is it, Charlie?" He asked, his question emerging somewhat forced, but looking at the boy, he could almost internally tell what was about to happen. Instead of offering any sort of affirmation, he opted to feigning ignorance. "What brings you by at this strange hour?"

For his part, Charlie simply stared at Willy's disheveled appearance, his expression blank.

The chocolatier glanced down at his clothing. It was wrinkled and he did not even require a mirror to know that his hair was more sporadic than usual. Wordlessly, the boy started to make his way down the hall, his arms folded across his chest, and an unspoken determination lining his face.

Willy slowly followed, but abruptly stopped. "What's the matter, Charlie?" He asked as the two of them wound their way through the twisting corridor that led to the chocolatier's office.

Charlie took several more steps, but abruptly stopped and turned around, his hands now firmly pressed against his hips. It was clear that the teenager was trying to make himself look bigger than he actually was.

"What's the matter?" He asked haughtily. "I'll tell you what's the matter. We were supposed to meet for dinner last night so that we could discuss the next shipments and you never showed. I spent all evening trying to find you and without the Wonkavator, that's a lot of walking. I even went to the Oompa Loompa village and asked Naibouli if he had seen you."

"You could have used the Wonkavator anytime you wanted, I already told you that," Willy managed as he tried once again to brush an awkward hand through his hair.

"That's not the point," the boy practically shouted. "It just seems clear to me that for the last two weeks, you've been out of it. Now you seem to always have these pressing emergencies come up when we're supposed to get together."

"Perhaps, I have," Willy confessed softly. "I'm sorry that I didn't let you know that I couldn't make it last night."

"You're sorry?" Charlie asked skeptically.

"Yes, Charlie, I'm sorry," he responded. "With all of the things that have happened, perhaps I did forget to let you know that I couldn't come. I honestly didn't mean to leave you hanging."

The teenager shrugged his shoulders. "How many more times will our work go by the wayside? Mum told me about your little talk with her yesterday about that girl. She seems to think that I should prepare myself for some sort of change."

"Perhaps you should," Willy mused under his breath.

Without warning, Charlie's next question abruptly filled the empty corridor. "For God's sake, Willy, what's happening to you?"

The chocolatier turned around and looked at Charlie. Because of his recent growth spurts, the boy was close to him in height. Of course, Willy still had the advantage, and this time he was ready to use it.

Before speaking, the confectioner crossed his own arms over his chest and regarded the boy. "I might be able to offer you an adequate answer to your inquiries if I knew what specifically you were talking about. Why don't you stop beating around the bush and tell me what this is all about?"

Charlie took a deep breath, which sounded remotely like huffing or puffing to the bemused chocolatier. As the boy tried to match Willy's stature by rising up on is tiptoes, the older of the two was left unsuccessfully trying to conceal his amusement. Of course, this only succeeded in making the agitated boy even angrier.

Willy had always taken the concerns of his apprentice seriously, but this time, he could not. He was hurled back to the memories of the same sorts of conflicts he and his father used to have. Strange, but at that moment, he was left with the realization that Charlie was a lot more like him than either of them were willing to admit.

For some time, no words emerged between the two. Instead, the boy once again started walking back down the hall and away from Willy.

Taking a deep breath, the older of the two began to doggedly follow. Although they both knew that they rarely had any sort of disagreement, this did not mean that it never happened. On those rare occasions that it did, Willy had to accept that the teenage angst was almost too much for him to handle.

It seemed an almost a cruel sort of irony that every time they had a disagreement, it was vented there. It was obvious to the confectioner that Charlie somehow knew that the rest of the factory could be 'contaminated' if they were to get upset with one another elsewhere. Whatever the case, and whether they liked it or not, Willy's office was where another dispute was about to take place.

Although he did not speak of it, Willy could understand Charlie's emotional outburst. He was also fully aware that he did owe his heir some sort of explanation for his recent behavior. The threat that Belinda presented as well as Charlie's emotional state had given way to a youth who was literally consumed in angst and worry.

It was also more than clear that Willy was not prepared for the boy's next words, which would emerge the second they stepped into the confines of the office and the door was closed behind them.

Crossing the small office, Willy sat down at the desk and made ready for the boy's eventual onslaught.

When it came, the chocolatier was struck speechless.

"You really handled everything well, didn't you?" Charlie looked at him, his words laced in accusing undertones.


	47. Chapter 46: Confrontations

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter of this story. Before I release you from the cliffhanger, I want to explain something to you. The situation that Willy has found himself in has affected Charlie as much as it has affected Willy. This brings change in characters and even makes them react to things perhaps in a more sensitive manner than what we are generally accustomed to._

_Please keep in mind that Charlie at sixteen and has angst issues, he's in that in between stage from growing from a boy to a man, and has questions that range from girls to social issues, only to be drawn back the factory. In this sense, I have characterized him as being somewhat vulnerable and trying to fight against that through his attitude. Even the most perfect kid is going to blow off steam now and again. Right now, Charlie's getting quite a few mixed signals from his environment. It is for that reason that I have made him a little bit more attitude prone. This chapter will bring him out of it, somewhat, but do take note, even with Willy's help, he does not speak of what happened with Belinda. That will come up in future chapters._

_Thanks again to Lysi Marie and YaYa for reviewing this story. It is greatly appreciated._

_Yva J._

* * *

**Chapter 46: Confrontations**

Willy looked over at his apprentice, the confusion evident as he tried to recover from the surprise that came with Charlie's inquiry. Eventually, he managed to compose a counter question. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you…and _her_," the boy said, his voice laced in misery as he waved his arm lackadaisically in the direction of the door. "You told me less than a week ago that you weren't interested in a relationship, but now look at you. You look like the guy who had a nice tumble in the bed with his sweetheart and all that's missing is the cigarette."

"I don't smoke anymore, Charlie. I haven't, not since…" Willy said, his voice trailing. Try as he might, he could not conceal the truth from his friend. The half ashtray that was no longer on the desk seemed to be the least of his concerns.

"It's not about you smoking," Charlie snapped. "Why don't you just admit it?"

"Admit it?" Willy parroted. "Admit what?"

"That you're in love with her."

"OK, if that's what you want, then yes, I will admit that I have fallen in love with Tamara Jenkins," he began, his voice completely even. "Does that make you happy?"

"No, it doesn't make me happy," Charlie shot back. "You said that you were married to your work. But, now I think you were only telling me those things to pacify me."

"No, at the time we spoke, I was being honest," he said.

"Yeah, honest," the boy said sullenly. "So where does that leave us?"

"This has absolutely nothing to do with us, Charlie," Willy said with exasperation in his words. "We are still there, at least that is as long as you want it to be. But, since you asked about it, I will tell you that this is about someone that I need in my life, and nothing more."

They sank into awkward silence, but as that literally consumed them, Willy looked at his apprentice as his next words emerged. "Look, whether you believe it or not, I'm still the same person you spoke to several days ago. Perhaps I've changed a little and have come to realize that there's more to my life than just candy."

Upon hearing these words, Charlie regarded the chocolatier with a stricken look on his face. "But…" he objected. Before his next words could emerge, Willy cut him off.

"…But nothing. Charlie, you know I love making candy, that will probably never change. But you have to accept that my life is more than just the work we do. I have come to realize a few things during the past few days and my priorities are a little bit different now." When he noticed that his friend was regarding him through uncertain blue eyes, he continued speaking, his voice etched in emotion. "I've accepted that can't live as a social recluse any longer. I can't hide my face from strangers like Erik did in The Phantom of the Opera. Charlie, I need other people in my life and not just you and the Oompa Loompas. I need the love that Tamara Jenkins has freely offered me."

"But you don't, I mean; you also have my family," Charlie objected.

"I need more, alright!" Willy said, his voice a practical shout and he watched as his protégé unconsciously cringed. Noticing this, his next words emerged much softer than his initial outburst. "You have everything you need, you have your family, and you have school as well as interaction with other kids. All that I know of the outside world is either from you or someone in your family." He took a deep breath as he continued to speak, his gaze still locked on that of the teenager. "I don't really know what's out there anymore. The thing is, this stalking business has opened my eyes to the possibilities. Unless I have the courage to go out there and experience something, then that person who has been doing this will have won. I cannot continue to exist on descriptions alone. I'm not CS Lewis' 'Baby in the Closet'. I need to see these things for myself." He took a deep breath, his hands rubbing against his face. "Charlie, did you ever read The Diary of Anne Frank?"

"Sure, everyone has, it's on the required reading list for everyone in the eighth class," Charlie said. As his answer filled the room, he looked at the chocolatier, his next question emerging. "Why do you ask?"

"Because every time you leave the factory and go somewhere, I feel like she and her family must have felt while they were stuck in that attic room in Amsterdam. When the Oompa Loompas started telling me that I should go out, I was initially afraid. At that time, I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I could have left anytime. Then Belinda's letters and packages started coming and the more I thought about it, the more I felt as though I was in hiding. I'm starting to resent the things that I'm not able to do. The truth is, I don't know very much about life outside of the factory at all. Even Tamara made the observation that I am sheltered. It hurt so deeply, but then I realized that she was right. It was distressing, but it was something that I knew I would have to change."

"You don't have to," Charlie said softly.

"Yes I do," Willy began. "I think you know deep down inside that I'm right, and that your feelings are based on the fears that you carry about my leaving the factory." He paused as he looked at the teenager, his expression earnest. "I'm not going to leave, Charlie. You have nothing to worry about."

"How do you know?" Charlie asked, his throat dry. For the first time since they had started speaking, Willy could see the fear emanating his young apprentice. Everything Charlie had said had been an outcry because of his internalized fears.

Willy reached over and touched the youth's shoulder. "Because I know where my loyalties lie. But my boy, it doesn't stop me from remembering a time in my life when I embraced what it was all about. I traveled and saw wonderful things – things that many people take for granted every day. It inspired and gave me some memories that I could carry back home with me. The point is, I have never been to New York or Paris, and I dream of one day seeing Niagara Falls, not just reading about them in a book."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Charlie asked.

"Because I didn't stop to think about them until I brought Tamara here. Charlie, I've been wrapped up in our work for so long that I forgot how to live. It's horrible to have to accept everything that I've been hiding from. Do you remember what I said the day we met?"

"How could I forget?" Charlie whispered. "Ever since that day, I've been scared that you were going to leave and I would never see you again. It made me think of my dad." He raised his head and looked at Willy. "I don't want you to go."

"Yet, you already know that this factory belongs to you now, it's in your name, and in essence, I have been working for you, not the other way around," Willy said.

"But this is your vision, not mine," Charlie said passionately. "I mean; I want to be a good candy maker, but you're the one who started it."

"Perhaps, but it is you, who is carrying on that vision. Charlie, I can't say it enough, I am so deeply proud of you," he smiled. "You have become not only my best friend, but you are my family, and that will not ever change unless you decide that a change is in order."

"I won't," Charlie said. "But, what are you going to do? Confront that psychotic woman who's been stalking you?"

"I don't know if that's what I want to do, but I think I should eventually face her and tell her that enough is enough. I'm not going to be a prisoner to her sick and demented fantasies any longer," Willy said vehemently. "I can't live only for the factory or with the option of hiding away from the rest of the world." His gaze remained on Charlie as the last words emerged. "I just can't do that anymore."

"What are you going to do?" Charlie asked.

"Well, for starters, I'm going to go camping," Willy said with a bitter laugh.

"What?" Charlie asked. "Why?"

"Because it's something I've never done and now I want to experience it," he looked at his apprentice, but noticed that the boy's eyes carried a look of bemusement. Upon seeing this, he continued. "Did you know that I've never slept in a tent or roasted marshmallows over a campfire. My father wouldn't let me when I was a boy, and although I have the capacity to do just about anything I want, this never crossed my mind. I never learned the words to songs about coming around a mountain or an itsy-bitsy spider. I can rattle off quotations from Shakespeare or Keats, or start talking in German, Latin, or French. I can even tell you every last ingredient as well as the amounts for the Scrumdidlyumptious Bar, but I can't even tell you a children's story about ghosts or goblins. I don't know why it is people enjoy being afraid of shadows on a wall or of bears in the woods, because I never experienced it and I don't know what it's like. Now, I'm going to find out."

"You've never done _any_ of those things?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"No, never," Willy shook his head. "Some would say I'm too old for it, or that I have passed beyond my chances of ever experiencing it." He ran his hand through his hair before continuing. "This week I met someone who showed me what it means to be courageous in the face of adversity. The first day we met, she told me about pitching a tent in a backyard, staying up all night with her brother, telling ghost stories, and singing songs. When I admitted that I had never been camping before and asked her if it was nice, she regarded me, not with surprise or shock, but with a sort of melancholic sadness. It felt as though she was trying to convey that I was really missing out on something extraordinary.

"The point is, I know that I have everything that I could ever want in my life here, but Charlie, I want more. I want something else besides the ability to boast being the best candy maker around. I want to experience life not just watch it passing me by. That's basically the only thing that Belinda sees; the fame, the fortune, and a few dozen Marshmallow Rounds. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

The boy looked as though he was about to cry. He closed his eyes but then opened them again and regarded his friend bravely. "I-is that what you think I've done? Just seen you for what you do and not for who you are?"

"No," Willy shook his head. He rested both of his hands on the teenager's shoulders. "Don't ever believe that not even for an instant, Charlie. It's just that I have come to realize that you cannot learn everything about life by listening to the stories of others. You have to get out there and experience it. It's like making candy, you cannot become a great candy maker by copying me, you have to learn by experience. Make a mistake or two, because through that, you can correct things and make them right. That's where the joy comes from and that's basically what Tamara has been showing me."

"I thought I was doing everything alright," the boy whispered.

"My boy, you are, but just as you have friends outside of your work here, I need that as well. There are some ideas and inspirations that I can get from Tamara that I cannot get from you, and there are also various ideas and concepts that I can get from you that she cannot provide," he said and smiled despite the earnestness of their conversation. "I don't expect anything more of you than what you have already given. Perhaps the only way I can convince you of that is to acknowledge how much you have accomplished since you came here. You've not only proven yourself as a dynamic chocolatier in training, but you've also become like the son I never had."

"I didn't know," the boy admitted meekly.

"Well, you can be certain now," Willy said. "I don't want you to be angry with me because of Tamara, and I don't think she would want you to be angry either."

"But, Willy, you know that I only want you to be happy," Charlie said. This made the chocolatier smile, as the boy's words sounded as though he was much younger than sixteen.

Willy smiled. "I appreciate that, Charlie. Thank you."

"I'm sorry I lost my cool, I've just got a lot on my mind lately," the boy confessed.

"I understand, and you know I've done it a few times myself these past few weeks. Let's just say that when it comes to blowing off steam, we're on even ground here and try and move beyond it," he smiled. "Of course something tells me that all of this came about because we've both dealing with a great deal of fear right now."

"You mean because of Belinda?" Charlie asked.

Willy nodded. "She's a big part of it, yes, but I also think you're a little bit worried that I'm going to go off with Tamara, spend the night outside, get eaten by a bear, and never come back."

"I wouldn't have put it that way," Charlie mused.

"I know, but the truth remains that you're afraid of me going off with Tamara and leaving you alone. That's not ever going to happen, Charlie. She knows that I am a candy maker, and that it is my life. She also accepts it. If you were to go and talk to her, she would be able to affirm that for you."

"She would?"

He nodded as a casual smirk shadowed his face. "Yes, and she's even offered to help me take care of this ghastly paperwork."

"You hate doing paperwork," Charlie mused.

Willy nodded. "Yes, and she doesn't seem to mind helping with it. Is it not better for me to find a lady who supports our work as opposed to one who hates it?"

"Yeah, I guess I can't argue that point," Charlie mused. "But, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me whatever you want," Willy said.

"How'd you know that I was afraid of you leaving?" Charlie asked.

"Because as well as you know me, I also know you," Willy smiled. "Listen, it may come as a surprise to you, but Charlie, I need both you and Tamara in my life." When the boy's expression relaxed, he continued. "As you have so often noted, I'm good at what I do, but my being with Tamara is not going to change that. It shouldn't. Of course, it may actually inspire me to create something rather inimitable." He took a deep breath, but when he released it, he continued, his voice soft. "I do love her, Charlie, and I know that that seems rather hard for you to believe or even accept, but she loves me, too. In all honesty, I never imagined that a woman could look at me in that way."

"In other words, she's really that great, huh?" Charlie asked.

Willy nodded. "Yes, she is."

"Then maybe I should do as you suggested earlier and go talk to her," he said.

"Maybe that would be a good start," Willy said. "Will you let her know that I have to get busy on this paperwork? Tell her that if she wants to come and help with it then, then I'd welcome her assistance." As Charlie nodded, he turned his attention back to the papers, but stopped as the teenager made his way towards the door.

Before his apprentice could completely leave the strangely decorated office, Willy raised his head. "Oh and Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he said, his words simple, but laced with his own form of gratitude.

"What for?" Charlie asked. "I mean; I was sort of mad at you about all of this."

"Just mad?" Willy asked. "Or weren't you just a bit jealous or scared?"

"Maybe," Charlie admitted reluctantly. "I still haven't found the right girl yet and for me it's harder, because they all seem to want to meet me because of you."

"Take my advice, you've got plenty of time. And who knows, maybe you have already met her and just haven't realized how important she is to you." Willy's thoughts abruptly shifted to Meagan and he offered his protégé an encouraging smile.

As the boy reached the door that would lead outside, the chocolatier's words continued. "Oh and for what it's worth, when I was your age, I was not nearly as articulate as you were just now."

Charlie smiled and nodded but left the office, the door closing behind him.

Once he was alone, Willy nodded and smiled. "He's got plenty of time to find someone, but if all goes according to plan, perhaps he would find her before the month is out…" he muttered softly as he lowered his head and began to write.


	48. Chapter 47: Teenage Angst

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. I have to say I really enjoyed writing these Charlie centric parts. Perhaps because so many people try to replace Charlie with other characters that his importance or significance goes by the wayside. I am, as some of you know, opposed to Charlie being cut out of stories simply because he's really a nice character. At any rate, I like that he feels what is going on, and that he is able to convey that this affects him just as much as it affects everyone else._

_Here's hoping that everyone enjoys this latest bit. Thanks to Stealth Phoenix and Ya Ya for the reviews and the unfailing support of this story. I hope that everyone continues to read and enjoy. Otherwise, happy reading._

_Yva J._

* * *

**Chapter 47: Teenage Angst**

Outside in the hallway, Charlie walked back in the direction of the Rainbow Light Room. He was not sure as to why he was even going there at all, perhaps it was another means in which to make peace with his mentor.

Deep down inside, when he was not listening to the hormones that seemed to racking havoc on him, something was telling him that a talk with Tamara Jenkins might sort him out a little bit. She was not his mother, nor was she his mentor, so whatever she might have to say could be construed as being objective.

Internally this was precisely what was telling him that it was a good idea.

Of course, not only was he thinking about what Belinda was doing, but he was also concerned for Meagan. His realization that she was not like other girls somehow slapped him across the face, and hard. She was clever, as well as seemed to have an air of street smarts that somehow surpassed his own.

While the teenager had been angry with Willy about getting involved with a woman, Charlie, himself, envied the matter-of-factness that embodied the chocolatier during their discussion. Willy was able to convey his emotions, whereas Charlie was not even close to admitting to himself that he was sort of attracted to the girl in his chemistry class.

He had wanted to tell Willy about his feelings, but something in his nonchalant manner somehow conveyed to the teenager that he already knew. Of course, that added in to everything else he was experiencing had literally left the teenager in this strange sort of emotional imbalance.

Glancing down at the watch that was wound around his wrist, Charlie realized that he had plenty of time until his first lesson was due to start. At that moment, he hoped that Tamara had not overheard the exchange between him and Willy when they had been out in the hallway. He knew from past experience that between him and his mentor, the two of them, if antagonized, could make quite a ruckus with their cross words.

Reaching the door to the Rainbow Light Room, he tapped lightly and waited. "Ms. Jenkins?" He spoke using her surname, his voice cracking from nervousness.

Seconds slowly ticked by as the door opened and he found himself looking down into her face. Even at twenty-four, the woman was considerably shorter than he was. Now, she stood there in front of him, a slight smile was touching her lips, her cropped blonde hair in the same ruffled up state that Willy's had been in.

From behind her, he could see that dawn had broken and the sun was now shining into the room. "Charlie?" Tamara spoke his name, thus bringing him out of his reverie. When he nodded slowly, she regarded Willy's apprentice for the first time since coming to the factory.

"May I come in?" He eventually asked.

"Sure," she backed away from the door and waited for him to enter the room.

She watched as he came into the room, his steps slow and deliberate. She could not help but ponder what it was the teenager was going to say. Instead of speaking, she tried to brush the wrinkles out of her dress, all the while knowing that the youth was literally sizing her up.

For his part, Charlie could not help but try and figure out what it was about her that had captured his mentor's attention. Her petite stature was a vast difference to the towering height of Willy Wonka, even without his top hat. She was not what one would call striking or beautiful, but he acknowledged that she was pretty in her own unique way.

He sat down at the table and continued to watch her movement. He wondered if she had been sleeping when he arrived because her actions seemed disoriented. "Did I wake you?" He eventually asked.

"No, I was awake when you came to talk to Willy. After you both left, I just laid down and was doing some reading." She motioned towards the bed where an open book lay. "I haven't read that book since I was little."

Charlie glanced over at it and smiled when he recognized it to be Willy's well-worn copy of Peter Pan. "I remember that book. My favorite character was the Tick-Tock Croc and Mr. Smee. He was always the bumbling villain."

Tamara smiled. "I can't decide which character I liked the best, actually. Peter Pan is a great character because he's the hero. The boy who refused to grow up. Somehow it's not hard to relate to that sort of personality even though he looked to Wendy to be his mother. It's a strange thing because she was a child herself."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Sometimes people go out of their way to look out for another even though there is no relation between them," she said. "Maybe that common ground thing holds some sort of merit."

Instead of continuing to speak, she went over to the nightstand and retrieved the last of the Marshmallow Rounds. Returning to the table, she pulled a chair from the table and seated herself. When he did not speak, she looked across the table at him. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't know," he said.

"You don't know?" She asked with a slight smirk.

"No," he mumbled.

"It's strange, I mean; from looking at you, I would say that you are sort of unwound about something," she remarked, the blunt undertones laced in her words.

"Come again?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, that's what my father used to say to me whenever I was upset about something. 'Tam-Tam' he would say 'you look unwound like a spool of thread that is about to jump from the bobbin of your Aunt Josie's sewing machine'. It's a silly sort of analogy, but somehow it always made me relax."

Charlie said nothing for several moments. Eventually, he found the courage and raised his head so that he could look at her. "Did you hear what we talked about out in the hallway just after Willy left?"

"No, but I generally don't make it a habit of eavesdropping," she said honestly. "Sometimes people hear the worst things about themselves when they try too hard to listen in on what other people are saying."

"You didn't hear anything?" He asked.

"Not a word," she said casually. "But, based on the worried look on your face, I can only assume that you might have said something that you don't really wish to bring up now."

"Maybe," Charlie whispered. "I just felt bad for getting angry with him is all."

"Why were you angry, Charlie?" She asked.

The teenager took a deep breath. "I was afraid and I didn't really understand."

"But you understand now?"

"Yes, and I think you're both really brave."

Tamara inhaled slowly, but released it when she spoke. "You've been talking to Willy, haven't you? Is this a conspiracy put in place by the two of you to get me to actually believe it?"

"You don't believe it?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No, Charlie, I don't, but thank you for saying so anyway."

"Ms. Jenkins…"

"…No, call me Tamara, Mrs. Jenkins is my mother and I'm not that much older than you, maybe eight or so years," she said. "You're sixteen right?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Eight years," she confirmed with a nod. "It's the same number of years as between me and Willy, actually."

At the mention of the chocolatier's name, Charlie's face paled and he looked away. After several moments had passed, he turned back to look at her. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" He asked weakly.

She nodded. "Yes, I am. I know that it all seems to have happened so fast or sudden, but I guess it can happen in more places than just fairy stories and old wives tales." She took a deep breath all the while knowing that her response had perhaps disappointed him. Instead of elaborating on this, she leaned over and rested her hand on his shoulder, thus causing him to raise his head. "Do you have any objections to that?" She asked as she continued to play with the unopened candy.

"Why should I?" He asked.

"Well, I know that you care for him very much," she said. "It's pretty obvious, and I know that it is sometimes kind of scary when someone new comes along and things start to change. You think that for whatever reason, I'm muscling in on your territory, right?"

"I never said that," Charlie objected.

"You didn't say it verbally, but your eyes sort of gave it away," she said, but instead of getting on to him for having these feelings, she released a pent up sigh as her next words emerged. "Look Charlie, I promise, I will not squeeze you out. You are Willy's apprentice and you are also his friend. My grandmother once said that relationships may come and go, but a true friend is the greatest of all things, because that is what will remain constant." As she spoke, she carefully opened the Marshmallow Round. "I think you're very lucky. I haven't very many friends here. Most of the people I know are back in Somerdale."

"Why don't you just go back?" He asked.

"For the longest time I really wanted to, but never did because I was scared to. I don't know if Willy told you very much about me, but I came here to get away from my ex-boyfriend. He had been doing to me what Belinda is doing to Willy. I suppose I figured that the only way I could handle the situation was to run away from it. So I ended up leaving my home and my family to come and live here in town. It was alright at first, I liked it. I found a part-time job that I enjoyed, but then I had to get a roommate and she turned out to be a psychopath."

"You're Belinda's roommate?" Charlie asked, but when Tamara nodded, he continued. "I'm sorry."

Tamara smiled slightly. "Not half as sorry as I am."

"I didn't know," he said. "So, what are you going to do? You're not going to move back in with that psycho, are you?"

"To be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do, but going back seems out of the question," she said honestly. "Willy offered to let me stay here, but I would feel badly using his kindness like that. Eventually, I'm going to have to start over somewhere, probably here in town, but definitely not where I was before."

"Willy didn't tell me that you being stalked. I mean; I didn't know that you had been through it, too. I guess I sort of thought that he was the only one…" His voice trailed off.

"…No" she said but shook her head. "He wasn't the only one."

The teenager took a deep breath. "Did he really kidnap you? I kept hearing stuff, but I didn't really know what happened and I was afraid to ask."

"Yes he did, but you must understand that it was an oversight on his part. I think even before we spoke the first time, he had started to realize the brevity of his mistake," she said with a slight nod of her head. Instead of keeping the teenager in suspense about this, she continued. "Now, before you ask what I intend to do about that, I have no intention of filing any charges against him or going to the press. The point is, I'm not angry with him about what happened. I know that he was afraid and felt alone in all of this. Perhaps his feelings parallel what you have been feeling."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well, it seems as though you are worried and feel a little bit alone in all of this," she said as he turned away from her. Eventually, she spoke his name, thus causing him to turn back around and regard her from the other side of the table. "I do know how you feel."

"How could you know?" He mumbled. "You didn't see what she sent."

"I told you that she was my roommate, and I would have to be completely ignorant and stupid to not know what was in those packages. I saw some of the things that she sent to Willy before she even sent them. I even tried to persuade her not to go through with it. Charlie, I knew from the onset that he didn't deserve or even want this. I tried to tell her, but instead, I made her think that I had done something she didn't like. She responded by completely trashing my room and destroying my belongings." She glanced over towards the sofa where the box still sat. "I couldn't go back there even if I wanted to. My things are way beyond repair. That's why I had to borrow clothes from your mother."

"I thought that dress looked familiar," the teenager mused.

She nodded as she silently walked over to the sofa and picked up the box. Returning to the table she shoved the candy to one side as she opened the lid and slid it over to him. "After this arrived here, Willy showed it to me, but I pretty much knew what was inside."

Charlie accepted the box and opened it. He peered down at the objects before shoving it off the table and allowing it fall to the floor. "I'm sorry, but I can't look at anymore of this stuff."

Tamara nodded as she got to her feet and walked around the table. With her foot, she shoved the box further away before wrapping her arms around the teenager. "It's alright to be afraid, Charlie," she said softly.

"It's not alright," the boy whispered, his face filled with agony. "It's not ever going to be alright because Willy's not been himself; not for weeks. You said you're in love with him, but you don't even know how he usually is. I mean; he's hiding behind the façade where he tries convince you that everything is alright, but I know it's not." He took a deep breath as he looked at her. "Tamara, can I tell you a secret?"

"You can tell me anything you want, Charlie," she responded.

"Something else happened to me, something that I didn't have the courage to even mention to Willy just now," he began.

"What?" Tamara asked. She was not quite certain she wanted to hear what the boy was going to say, but it was clear that he was just as scared of Belinda as she had been of Neil. Knowing that her experience with her stalker was behind her, she allowed herself to press forward. "Tell me what happened, Charlie."

"Belinda's been following me. I don't mean, just to and from school, but every time I leave the factory, she's like a shadow. Now, she's also following Meagan, and that's freaking me out," the boy confessed. "I pretended not to notice for Meagan's sake, but I can't hide it anymore."

"She's following Meagan too?" Tamara asked. "Do you have any idea why?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, but I remember how Meagan would look around to make sure we were alone when we would be in the halls at school. Yesterday, she cut Chemistry because in her own words, she was going to try and get Belinda away from me so that I could come home safely. Meagan and I even devised a plan to keep her off the factory grounds. When it first started, I told Willy about it, but when we talked back then, it wasn't that bad. Now, I'm afraid to tell him that it's more serious because I don't want to scare him." He shook his head.

"Did you talk to the school's director or a teacher about what was happening?" She asked. "I mean; if you let someone know, then they help make sure you are safe while at school."

"No." His single word answer emerged.

"Why not?" She asked.

"Because I was afraid that they would tell me that I was overreacting. Besides, it only happens when we leave and come to school. Even Meagan told her parents, but she said her mother figured that it was because we had watched too many scary movies," he confessed. "Meagan's been helping me to get away from Belinda by sending her on wild goose chases. She even sent her on one at this labyrinth that borders the factory grounds. It scared me to think what would happen if Belinda caught up with Meagan or worse, managed to get inside the factory. I mean; if she did then, then she could find Willy and then it would be all my fault because I wasn't careful enough. I would die if something happened to Willy."

"You shouldn't talk like that. I don't know what we're going to do, but I do know that we're going to make sure that nothing does happens to Willy," she said firmly. "I know I seem confident about all of this, but I'm not. The truth is, I'm scared. It all reminds me of the experience I had when my family was being watched by Neil. I knew that he was looking for me, but his actions started to affect the people in my life, and it got very scary for all of us."

Her words made Charlie raise his head slowly. "The thing is, I know it's not strong or bold of me to admit it, but every time I leave the factory, I'm comforted by the fact that Willy's safe inside and that nothing can happen to him. Now, he either feels like a prisoner or I'm just scared that he's going to die just like my father did."

"Willy is not going to die, Charlie," Tamara said firmly. "Neither of us are going to let something terrible happen to him. He does have more friends than you think out there. He needs to know that so that he can find the courage to reach beyond just the confines of this place." Tightening her hold on him she continued to speak. "Besides, you have to admit one thing, Willy Wonka is far too headstrong to go down without a fight."

"You know him," the teenager whispered with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe not as well as you, but I do know that he's bound and determined to overcome all of these things in the best way he can," she said.

"He's probably just doing it for you, though," he whispered.

"No, he's not," she shook her head. "He may be thinking about me, but I know for a fact that he's doing it for himself, as well as for you." She brushed a gentle hand through his hair. "Charlie, you _are_ his family."

The teenager nodded numbly and backed out of the embrace. "Thank you, maybe that's what I really needed to hear." After several minutes had passed, he looked at her. "I should probably get going, I still have to get ready for school. Would you like me to show you to Willy's office?"

She nodded and smiled as the two of them got to their feet. "I'm really glad we talked, Charlie. I don't want you to hate me because it seems as though I'm taking some of Willy's time away from you." As she spoke they left the room and stepped out in the corridor.

"I shouldn't have gotten mad at him, I guess I just got scared," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"Yes, but do you know what?"

"What?"

"I think we can all understand that very well," she said smiling. "Perhaps what needs to be done now is to find a way to fight back," she smiled at him.

"You mean stand up for ourselves?" He asked.

"Exactly, if we don't do it, then who will?" She asked. When he returned the gesture, she knew that things were going to be alright for the teenager.

After several seconds passed, Charlie stopped, turned, and looked over at her. "Maybe sometime I can show you around the factory if Willy doesn't get a chance to," the teenager offered.

"That would be very nice," she said. "I never thought that I would actually get to see this place. I know that it seems a bit of a surprise, but I haven't really thought that much about it since coming. I suppose it seems rather odd for someone who works in a candy store to say that, doesn't it?"

"You work in a candy store?" Charlie asked as they reached the office door.

"It's the same store where you found the Golden Ticket at." She smiled, and when Charlie's eyes widened, she continued, as if to answer his unasked question. "Willy told me about it."

The boy nodded, but motioned towards the door. "Well, this is it," he said as he tapped lightly on the door. "I have to get going. See you around Tamara, and thanks."

Before she could even respond, the teenager was gone.


	49. Chapter 48: Trouble in Paradise

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. First of all, a shout out to Stealth Phoenix is in order for the idea of giving Belinda some back story. I have incorporated her with a back story, which also included about an hour of research on my part. I have noticed, unbeknownst to myself that she has a number of symptoms for certain psychological disorders. Now, we all know that she is crazy, but the back story is somehow significant here so that we can all sort of make our own conclusions about her._

_Since I have noticed that people who demonstrate these behavioral patterns are often times, not all there, it just seemed logical for me to throw the idea into the mixture. So, here's hoping that you enjoy it, and do let me know what you think. Thanks also to Ya Ya for the continued support.  
_

_Enjoy the latest chapter._

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**Chapter 48: Trouble in Paradise**

Seconds later, the door slowly opened and Tamara looked up to see that Willy was standing in the threshold. "I take you had the chance to talk with Charlie a little bit?" He asked, a gentle smile stretching across his face.

"Yes, we talked, but Willy, something tells me that you know some of what we talked about," she said. "Did he tell you that he's been feeling really scared for you?"

"He didn't go into too much detail about it," he said. "What did he tell you?"

"I can't really say, because I don't want to break his confidence. I think it would be safe for me to tell you that there is a lot more going on with Charlie than just a teenager going through a phase. Something he said really stuck."

"What?" Willy asked.

"That you were different before we met," she whispered. "He basically said that before, you didn't act like you are acting now."

"He told you that?" He asked softly.

"Does it surprise you?" She asked.

"In a way, yes. When we talked, he was only asking me about my affections towards you," he admitted.

"Was that it?" She asked.

Instead of immediately responding, Willy ran his hand through his tousled hair but offered her a slow nod. "I knew that he was worried, Tamara. The truth is, I tried to keep a great deal from him. I suppose in hindsight, I wanted to work through everything on my own so that he wouldn't worry."

"You can't continue to do that, you know. He's a young man, yes, but he's also your family. The point is, you need each other, especially now," she said.

Willy took a deep breath, his expression shifting somewhat until he was left regarding her through frustrated blue eyes. "What is it that makes you so smart?" He asked, but paused before finding his voice and continuing. "Before, you faced Neil, you felt helpless and lost and I thought that it was my obligation to protect you. Now, it seems as though you're trying to take care of us."

"Does that really bother you?" She asked, her voice suddenly taking on a harshness that sounded strange, even to her.

"No, it just reminds me of how pathetic I am. Your challenge is behind you, and mine still seems to loom over the horizon," he went over to the chair and sat down on it, his body somehow taking on the essence of lifelessness.

Tamara looked at him, a mixed set of emotions washing over her. It was strange that on the one hand she felt empathy towards him, but at the very same moment, she also felt an unbelievable resentment encasing her.

"You only liked me being weak and helpless because it diverted your focus from your own problems," she whispered as she bit down on her lip. She was not certain about how he would take her blunt response, but something told her that she was about to find out.

Instead of responding to these words, she watched as he reached for a pen and settled himself back at the desk to continue with the paperwork.

"You know, maybe Charlie was right. Maybe you have changed. One thing is clear to me, you are most definitely different than the person Bill described. Now, I can't help but wonder who the real Willy Wonka is. It's clear to me that you're in a lot of pain and you're afraid, but whatever macho thing is going on with you, I want no part of it."

Willy rubbed his face with one of his hands while the other unconsciously slammed the pen down on the surface of the desk. This caused Tamara to jump, but instead of paying her any mind, the chocolatier took a deep breath as he turned back around and looked at her, his blue eyes filled with animosity.

For her part, Tamara watched as he clenched his fist, the anger somehow overflowing the room. She knew that she had pushed him too far, but her next words unconsciously emerged despite her trying to keep them suppressed. "What is it that is keeping you from being real with me?"

Willy's head began to literally swim, his thoughts shifting from his argument with Charlie back to the moment that they were now consumed in. The only thought that was now cursing through is mind was to hide his fears behind a façade, and verbally hurt her in the same exact manner that she had done with him. "You don't really know me?" He asked. "Well, if that is the case, then perhaps you should stop pretending that you do."

"I'm not pretending," she whispered bitterly. "It's more than clear to me that your apprentice doesn't know you anymore. He said that he was scared for you. Imagine that, a sixteen-year-old boy being afraid for the welfare of a man twice his age. He may not have liked my presence here, but maybe what he didn't like was seeing his best friend in such a wretched state."

Despite his not wanting this, Willy's breathing became somewhat heavy as her words washed over him like a cold spring rain. Clasping his hands together, he covered his mouth and closed his eyes. "Have you any idea what I was thinking yesterday when she came into Bill's candy shop?" He eventually asked.

"N-no," she whispered, "but I can imagine because we were standing outside when she did. I had never been more afraid for another person in my life."

"You were afraid for me?" He asked somewhat pointedly, the irony laced in his stance. When she nodded, he continued. "Do you even know what I saw when I looked at her?"

Tamara shook her head. "No."

"I saw someone who was psychologically not all there," he said ironically. As his words filled the office, she could feel an almost icy residue washing over the entire room.

"S-she's sick…" Tamara's voice filtered off as she looked at him. Somewhere deep inside of her, the young woman seemed to be calculating something. After several moments had passed, she shook her head as though in denial. Seconds later, one of her hands pressed over her lips. "…Oh my God!"

Willy watched as her face lost every last trace of color. Her hands had started to tremble and her fists unconsciously clenched. Forgetting his earlier annoyance, Willy looked at her, this time his expression laced in concern. "What is it?" He asked.

Tamara shook her head. "I didn't want to believe it."

"Believe it?" Willy asked. "Believe what?"

"That Belinda's not in really in her right mind," she looked at him, her eyes filled with fright. "Willy, I think she really is sick."

"Sick?" He asked.

Tamara nodded. "Yes, mentally – sick."

"And you decided not to tell me this until _now_?" He asked skeptically.

Tamara raised her head and looked at him, her expression laced in irritation. "Look, I'm not perfect, alright? I did have other things on my mind, you know." As she spoke, she crossed her arms over her chest as if to give emphasis to that particular point.

"Alright, what do you remember?" he asked.

"Two weeks ago, before all of this started happening, Belinda's father, Ed, showed up at the apartment. He looked to be somewhat out of sorts, but he came in after I told him that Belinda was not at home. He was going to leave a message for her, but then he started asking me questions about where she went when she wasn't working and the sorts of people she consorted with. I told him that I didn't really know because we worked such different hours. Anyway, I told him that she would not be back until later."

"What does this have to do with her stalking me?" He asked.

"Be patient," she snapped. "I'm trying to explain."

Willy nodded and waited for her to continue.

"While Ed was there; he started telling me a little bit about Belinda' past or at least about their family. I didn't know very much, and Belinda was never forthcoming with information. In other words, she knew more about me than I did about her," Tamara shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, according to Ed, when Belinda was fourteen, her mother Emily was institutionalized and later diagnosed with 'Paranoid Schizophrenia'. Just before Ed left, he told me that it was perhaps not a good idea to mention this to Belinda at all. He went on to say that Emily used to be dangerously obsessed about reenacting plots of old movies. Apparently, when Belinda was a little girl, she would sit watch these old movies with her mother. 'Gone With the Wind', or 'Casablanca' were Belinda's favorites, but Ed said that Emily loved the tragic love stories with the so-called happy ending."

"Are you saying that Belinda might have a psychological disorder?" Willy asked.

"I don't know, but the question does beg to be answered. I mean; is it possible that Belinda could have this condition as well?" Tamara asked. "If it is, then perhaps it will shed some light on why all of these things are happening the way they are."

"It's still no excuse, Tamara," Willy whispered. "She's scaring you, me, Charlie, Meagan and perhaps others as well."

"I'm not saying that it's an excuse, but I am saying that if you know the signs of paranoid schizophrenia, then it would add even more concern to what we already have. If Belinda's not in her right mind…" her words trailed and she shuddered unconsciously.

"…She could prove to be even more dangerous than Neil," Willy finished for her and when she offered an insecure nod, he continued. "What are the chances of it being an inherited condition?"

"That's just it, I don't really know, but after Ed left, I read somewhere that certain psychological conditions could be inherited from parent to child, but otherwise I don't know." Tamara looked at Willy, her fears getting the better of her and she lowered her head. "Maybe I'm reading more into this than I should, but the more I think about it, but more logical and scary it all seems."

Willy nodded, "perhaps later, when we go to my room, we can check the encyclopedia on it," he suggested.

Tamara nodded as she sat down on the corner of the desk and lowered her head, her arms wrapping snugly around her body. "I guess you really do prefer me being an emotional weakling…" she began, her voice trailing off.

Willy took a deep breath. "I never said that," he whispered, the words that Tamara had spoken, somehow attacking his conscience.

"Well, in case you did not notice it, you're being a lot nicer to me since I mentioned the whole issue of schizophrenia, than you were before," she whispered as she felt herself beginning to tremble.

"That wasn't intentional," he whispered.

Instead of responding to this, she shrugged her shoulders and took a deep breath. "I don't know, but when I saw her going into the shop, I got really scared. I was terrified, for you, for me, maybe even for the other people who were inside. I didn't know what she was even capable of doing. I lived with her for several months, but I had no idea that she was on the verge of freaking out. It wasn't until much later that I would find out that her mother had suffered from one of the most dangerous psychological conditions that exists."

Willy took a deep breath as he looked at her, his expression earnest. "All that I could remember was standing at the counter trying to keep Meagan Lovejoy from getting upset after Belinda had come into the room. I honestly didn't know what to do. Belinda walked over to me and I felt this very strange emotion as though she could read through anything I said. I suppose I knew who it was before you or Bill even affirmed it because Meagan was so terrified. At that moment, I had someone depending on me to help keep things from falling apart, but yet, there I was looking into the eyes of the woman who had been tormenting me. For the first time in my life, I was unable to confront or even be angry with her. I didn't have time to be afraid either, I had to do what I could to protect us both as well as the kids who had come into the shop."

"And you did, you protected me, Bill, and even Meagan," she whispered.

"Sure, but it doesn't stop me from standing there and asking myself how I could have mistaken you for her when all this started. How could I have done that, Tamara? You're nothing alike, and yet, I somehow invented this ridiculous notion when I mistook you for her." He closed his eyes.

Tamara took a deep breath. "That's behind us now, Willy."

"No it's not," he whispered, the tears catching in his eyes. "If she does have a mental disorder, then that could change everything. We'll have to be even more careful than we were before."

Tamara knew that Willy Wonka somehow felt even more trapped than he had been before all of this happened. Wordlessly, she went over to him and wrapped her arms around him before pulling him into her embrace. His head eventually came to rest against her chest as the tears made a steady stream down his face.

"Do you remember what you told me several days ago?" He asked.

"I said a lot of things," she said softly.

"You said that you were tired of being afraid. You said that you wanted to take back your life and not be scared anymore," he said as he felt her hands gently stroking his hair. "Do you remember?"

She nodded numbly. "I remember you holding me like this and telling me that I'm not alone. But, Willy, if I'm not alone then neither are you."

"Sometimes, that's how I feel – alone. The only way I know how to contend with this is to try and be there for someone else instead of focus on how crazy it's making me feel. After all this time, I still don't know how to let anyone in." He covered his face with his hands as his shoulders began to unconsciously shake. "Tamara, I don't know how. I'm trying to be strong for everyone else, but deep down inside, I know I'm falling apart and for whatever reason, I can't show it to Charlie or Meagan or even to you."

Wordlessly, Tamara leaned over and cupped his face in the same manner that he had done with her the first time they shared a passion-filled kiss. Her fingers stroked either side of his face, her fingers soft and gentle as they caressed his cheeks. "Willy, I know that you're afraid, I am too. Just, please don't be angry with me when I try to be strong."

He raised his head, but looked at her. The first thing he noticed was that she was trembling, but still holding him as firmly as she could. Seconds later, he could feel her hands lowering until she had wrapped her arms around him.

After several moments of silence passed between them, she could suddenly feel his hold tightening. "Should I be honest?" He whispered.

"Yes," she said softly, but nodded her head.

"I don't have very much energy left to contend with all of this. I have to keep working. It's the only thing that keeps me from feeling as though I'm losing my mind."

"I understand that, but Willy, everything that Belinda is doing is leaving its residue on you, Charlie, Meagan, and me. Now, regardless of what you may believe, this time you're not alone. I never believed in things like fate until I met you. Later, you said that we would face our fears together. Doesn't that mean that I should somehow find the courage to be there for you as well?"

"I'm grateful for that," he said softly. "I just wish I had known before now what was happening with Charlie."

"I think you did, you just had other things on your mind," she said softly as her fingers continued to stroke his hair. "Willy, Charlie's afraid that you're either going to abandon him or die."

"I don't plan on doing either of those things," he said softly. "Regardless of what happens otherwise."

"Did you tell him that?" She asked.

"Yes, I told him that I wasn't leaving," he said with an affirmative nod of his head. "Maybe I should not have told him about what happened with Belinda, her letters or the stalking, but I figured that he already knew."

"He did know, but he also observed how you had changed over time. Maybe it's a little bit more than just you wanting to be the Willy Wonka that you were before," she said as she moved her hand so that she could gently stroke his face.

Willy looked at her, his blue eyes now laced in a mixture between gentility and determination. "Perhaps, if anything, now is the time for the two of us to finally show the rest of the world what we mean to each other."

"What do you mean?" She asked, clearly confused.

"Well, it's clear that we will one day have to face this, so why make it sooner as opposed to later?" He asked. "The thing is, I was thinking while you were talking to Charlie, that maybe you and I could do something that normal couples do. What I mean is we should go outside the confines of the factory." He smiled at her. "I would be foolish to say that I am not afraid of that, because you know that I am. Yet, I know just the thing."

"What?"

"Tamara, would you take me camping?" He asked, his voice taking on an almost youthful cadence.

"Camping?" She asked skeptically. Despite her reservations about the idea, a tiny smile broke through. "We're talking about a woman with a possible mental disorder stalking you and you want to go camping?"

The chocolatier arched an eyebrow but gave her a mischievous smirk. "Why not? Belinda will probably never put two and two together or even realize that that is what we intended to do. If she did then it would no doubt come up after the fact. Besides, the way you're smiling, the idea does hold a certain amount of merit."

"Alright, I'll take you, but when should we go?" She asked.

"Perhaps next week after I get the monthly shipments out," he said. "I've already gotten myself helplessly behind on that."

Tamara looked into the chocolatier's eyes, but after several moments, she simply nodded. "That's alright because we will have to get everything ready for it. A lot of the stuff we'll need is still at my parents' house. Along with that, I still have no clothes of my own here."

"Then tomorrow morning we can go shopping," Willy said. He disentangled himself from her embrace, went over, and opened one of the desk drawers. Scrounging around, he extracted a credit card and examined the expiration date on it. "This is still valid, I see." He smirked. "So, what do we need for camping?"

"Well, what I usually take are jeans and a couple of flannel shirts and jogging pants to sleep in. It sometimes gets cold outside at night and since the weather has been chilly, it would probably be a good idea to have those things on hand anyway." She looked at him. "Do you have anything like that?"

"I don't really know what I have that would be appropriate. Of course, as it stands, my closets are rather full," he said honestly. "I haven't thrown anything out in years. Perhaps we can check later and you can ascertain if I have something appropriate. I figure that after we get all the clothing and things that we'll need, we can take the Wonkavator to Somerdale."

"Why can't we just drive a car there like normal people do?" She asked. "Besides, with all the stuff that we're going to be needing, it may seem a bit overstuffed in there anyway."

"Well, I'm sort of out of practice with driving," he confessed softly.

"Then I'll drive," she said. "Do you have large car or a van that we can pack lots of stuff in?"

"I have one of each actually," he said.

"Great, then let's get the paperwork done," she said. After several seconds, she looked at him. "Willy, are you absolutely sure you want to go through with the camping trip?"

He nodded. "Ever since the day we met, and you mentioned it, I decided that I really wanted to go. I only hope that you can handle being around someone who is quite inexperienced in that regard."

"I think I can handle it, I just hope that by the time we go, Belinda will be out of our hair. I don't need more nightmare inducing circumstances," she said honestly. "It's strange because I never thought that I would be going camping with you. There's something quite appealing about that particular idea though, especially the part about cuddling around a campfire."

Willy smiled as he gave her a kiss. When he withdrew, he smiled. "Just don't let me get eaten by a bear, alright?"

"There are no bears where we'll be going," she smiled at him. "Now, let's get busy, this paperwork is not going to do itself."

"Shall I brew some coffee?" He asked coyly.

Tamara took a deep breath. "You really are easily distracted, aren't you?"

Willy nodded impishly as he leaned towards her and pressed his lips against one side of her neck. For the moment, the chocolatier's means of distraction had worked successfully, as Tamara backed away from his onslaught only to retaliate and return some of his loving attention.


	50. Chapter 49: Rectifying Emotions

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. A few words here as well as a disclaimer. I did do a certain amount of research to write this chapter as well as the last one. The facts about Paranoid Schizophrenia are accurate, according to the medical website which I obtained the information. Some of the stuff contained there was downright scary, but somehow it paralleled Belinda's character, which I go into greater depth in this chapter. If her thoughts seemed scatterbrained, it was for good reason._

_With that said, I have to say thanks to my friend Jenni OnThisSide, for the information about the pomegranate juice. I wasn't sure what kind of juice looked the most blood like, but she, being a Moonlight fan, helped me with that, so thanks have to go out to her for that._

_There will be more Belinda psychotic craziness to come, I am going to give you a climax on this story to blow your mind and thus my posting the chapters are coming a bit faster. I have some serious stuff to build up to. Stay tuned, the suspense is terrible, and it will last._

_Thanks to my reviewers for their continued support. Glad you liked the bits I added, Stealth Phoenix, your idea about Belinda's back story was indeed a good one. Thanks and if you guys read M-rated stuff, do check out her story 'Bittersweet Symphony', it is a very good Depp Wonka story…and it's full of suspense too. ;) Don't forget to leave reviews…_

**…_Reviews are like chocolate, and we writers can't get enough of either. ;) Enjoy._**

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**Chapter 49: Rectifying Emotions**

At the same time Willy and Tamara were trying to decipher what would happen next, Belinda had woken up early and crawled out of bed. For whatever reason, her dreams and reality had somehow managed to mesh together, and her hands were now covered with sweat.

She did not know why this was the case, but she looked around the room as the realization hit her. This place is a disaster area, she thought.

Now it was clear that she would have to do something to get the apartment into some semblance of order. If the police did return, she was not quite certain if seeing such a messy looking place would actually pacify them.

The excuse of Tamara's sloppiness would not work for a second time. In fact, her recent disappearance would prove that beyond any doubt. Belinda figured that they would eventually put two and two together and nail her for having destroyed the room in the first place.

Even in her present psychological state, Belinda knew that that would not be a good idea. For reasons that only she was aware, her intentions were to stay clear of any authority figures. After all, they were probably also involved in what she dubbed as 'Tamara's conspiracy'.

Sighing, she made her way down the hall and into the kitchen. The dining table was still strewn with remnants of her 'project'. Instead of paying it too much attention, she grabbed the charcoaled pots and pans, returned to the kitchen and threw them into the sink before adding hot water, soap, and a pinch of salt.

Leaving them to soak, she returned to the dining room with the intention of clearing off the table.

Strewn across it were several empty wrapping papers of Wonka's Marshmallow Round candies. At that moment, Belinda began to ponder why it was the candy had suddenly become so hard to come by.

She had checked supermarket shelves, and had hit just about every candy store in town, all to no avail. Did Wonka Industries simply stop shipping out the candy, or did Willy Wonka have someone behind his tall iron gates telling him to halt production on them? Whatever the case, the town seemed almost void of her favorite Wonka candy.

Instead of keeping the wrappers, she shoved them all into a small pile.

Obsession or no, there was very little point to her continuing to live in such a pig sty.

Ignoring the table, she returned to the kitchen and opened the cabinet that was just underneath the sink. Digging around, she eventually found a bundle of black colored garbage bags. Pulling them out, she carried the entire bundle into the dining room.

The first thing she did was to separate one of the bags from the group and shake it out. Once she had done this, she shoved the whole mess from off the table into the bag. Next, she grabbed the roll of garbage bags and swept her way down the hall and in the direction of Tamara's bedroom.

Reaching it, she opened the door and entered the disastrous looking room. Placing the bag in the middle, she started grabbing the shredded clothing and began to stuff it haphazardly inside. Within minutes, she had managed to get all the damaged clothing off the floor.

Soon the bag was completely full and she tied it closed before taking it out into the hallway and dropping it against the wall. Returning to the room, she started to clear away even more of the broken objects. The tacks left over from Tamara's Sydney poster were still stuck in the wall and Belinda removed them and dropped them into the second bag.

Grabbing a piece of paper, she started to write out a list of things that she would have to get to fix up the room.

Belinda smiled slightly as she managed to get the bed put back together and collect the small figurines that were covering part of the mattress. Smiling, she realized that not only would this cleaning job shift the police suspicions away from her, but it would probably end all speculations as to whether or not she was actually in her right mind. If this turned into the matter of 'he said / she said', then Belinda believed that she would emerge from this fiasco victorious. Maybe she would even find Willy Wonka coming to her and apologizing for having ignored her.

Belinda smiled as the thought of taking Willy Wonka back home to her parents and introducing him to them. Her perfect mother and her chivalrous father. It would be the perfect ending to her self-made fairy tale.

At that moment, her thoughts shifted however, and unwillingly, she could suddenly see the images of her mother being carted off to the psychiatric hospital. She had been only a teenager at the time, but these images still remained in her mind.

They have to think that I'm perfectly normal, Belinda's thoughts were ravaging her mind. I must get rid of the evidence before they come back and realize that I had destroyed Tamara's room a fit of rage.

I wasn't myself, her thoughts continued to argue as she closed and tied the bag before throwing it callously out into the hallway.

Grabbing a third bag, she shook it out and placed it in the middle of the room. Once dusk would fall, she figured that she would be able to sneak everything out of the apartment and dump it in the garbage bins behind the building. Once she had managed to put the place back into some semblance of order, then all would be set right in the world.

I didn't do anything wrong, Belinda kept thinking. Deep down inside, however, she knew that all of these things were solely being done as a means in which to pacify as well as conceal her deteriorating psyche.

No longer caring, she continued cleaning the room.

It was at moments such as these, when Belinda Hutchinson was the most dangerous. A simple thought could momentarily cause her to mesh the events of the past and present together. Through that, she would lose complete control of what she was doing.

Now, as much as she would have liked to have avoided this, the hallucinations had, over the past few weeks, progressively gotten worse and would come and go like wind blowing through an open window.

At this point, just about everything that happened to her somehow reminded her of the past.

She went over to the closet and picked up even more of the clothing pieces that were scattered at the base of it. Without inspecting them closer, she tossed them into the bag. At that moment, her thoughts returned to the events of the night before when the police had callously evicted her from her apartment.

The meeting with Ted Fitzgerald seemed to only compound her confusion. Her thoughts shifted as the name Ted came across sounding very much like Ed, her father. A scowl crossed her face as she contemplated the other man's words. He was literally doing exactly what her father had done after her mother had been taken away from her.

At the end of their dialogue, Belinda concluded that Ted's words sounded very much the same as her father's long drawn out excuses. To Belinda, every person she had ever loved had been taken away from her. The only option she had was to fight with all her might to get them back and to keep them.

Belinda believed that she would succeed in her quest to get Willy Wonka, but regardless of that, she still carried the scars of her past around. No matter how hard she tried, these would not go away. Today, she would do everything she could to keep from meeting the very same fate as her poor mother.

Emily Hutchinson's fixations and obsessions would devolve into a condition known as paranoid schizophrenia. Her delusions and hallucinations would somehow affect everyone and everything around her. For the longest time, Ed denied that there was even a problem. That was until Emily had threatened to take an overdose of sleeping pills if he were to so much as walk out and leave her. Her once harmless condition had devolved into a self-destructive and dangerous one. After several months of living with this, Belinda's father handed down the ultimatum. Either Emily go into a hospital, or he would leave and take their daughter with him.

After some time, Ed asked someone from the local hospital to come by and visit. There they would be exposed to Emily's sporadic behavior. After seeing it, they agreed that Emily would have to go in for treatment, even if by force. Two days later, an ambulance arrived to take Emily to the hospital.

Through this decision, Ed hoped that these wayward behavior patterns would ultimately bypass his daughter completely. He told Belinda that if she stopped having contact with her mother for the time being, she would no doubt be safe from the symptoms of her mother's condition.

Unfortunately that was not how this condition worked. By the time she was fifteen, Belinda began to more overtly show the signs of the very same disorder. Of course, she had sworn to keep it to herself so that her fate would not parallel her mother's. As a result, the mental disorder went undetected as well as untreated. For her part, Belinda worked with all her might at keeping it completely concealed from her father's attention.

By the time Belinda had turned sixteen, some two years after Emily had initially been sent to the hospital, Ed figured that his wife was 'cured' and his daughter would be safe from the condition. Through that, their family life could continue as it had done before all of these events had transpired.

Several years after that, Belinda left home to pursue her Interior Design studies at the University, her work becoming the most important thing in her life. This gave her the tools to withdraw even further into herself. When she was not working on her degree, she spent all her time watching those same old movies that she and her mother had viewed during her early adolescence. Between the movies and her studies, she had no time for making friends or normal socialization.

Today, because of these experiences, Belinda's entire psyche had devolved into a meshed together crop of disoriented thoughts and emotions. These were all predominantly centered on movies and stories with happy endings. No one ever really thought that the obsessive viewing of films would pass from mother to daughter, but that was precisely what had come about.

It was not until the fateful day in October when her obsession would come full-circle. She would, in fact, see the face of the man she would fall helplessly in love with. Through this single event, she came to the dangerous conclusion that he would one day be hers. Their match was written in the stars, and she knew that it would ultimately change her life forever.

His creative genius was the one thing that had ensnared her. His blue eyes reminding her so much of her father's that she somehow believed that by that trait alone, he was destined for her.

After all, what was there not to like about Willy Wonka?

He lived for the same sort of creative work that she did. His ambition, matched with hers, would be unstoppable. This aim about impressing and winning him over would be the motivation for her to move to this town in the first place. Now that she had a goal, she set out to being just as good at her career, as he had been with his.

Not having very much experience in the relationship or romance departments, Belinda sank even further into her fantasies and lost her grip on reality. Through her withdrawing from everyone, she had somehow immersed herself into believing that the way to capture a man's affections meant to do everything she could for him.

It was noted in her favorite films, so it must be true.

Through this, Belinda started to piece together the ideas that would ultimately become her pet project.

Moving in with Tamara Jenkins had somehow proven that she could fit in with the rest of the world without any problems. In fact, things seemed to have worked rather well for her during the first two months when Belinda had managed to conceal her obsessions through the ways in which she kept house.

That, in addition to the fact that Ed had given her the gun, somehow added validity to her assertion that she was completely 'normal'. Perhaps there had truly been a way in which she would be able to conceal her true motives and intentions from everyone else.

Her plan seemed to work, that is until the evening when Tamara had found the remains of her project on the table and had confronted her about it. Of course, her roommate was only being negative and reacting out of jealousy or spite. It was Belinda's opinion that Tamara's reactions were completely ridiculous and unjustified.

After all, the movies had actually outlined the 'right' way to go about it, and that was what Belinda was doing. Anything that detracted from her interpretation of it, was simply 'wrong'.

Then, of course, there was Willy Wonka.

Was the reclusive confectioner really worth all of the effort she was tossing into the mixture? Somehow, through all of this, Belinda was reminded of the same cool demeanor and loving persona that also encased her father.

Although she would never freely admit it, she had started to unconsciously mistake the chocolatier's familiar blue eyes with that of her father, thus concluding that the relationship that had prevailed with her parents', would also be the same for her and Willy Wonka.

Her perceptions further complicated things when she internally compared her and Willy to her parents.

Through all of this, Belinda believed that they were destined to be together and she would not let go of that delusion. The two groups of people had somehow become interchangeable. All that was left, was for her to manipulate them to her liking.

As she finished putting the rest of the mangled things into the bag, she rubbed her face in her hands. It was becoming clear that the young woman desperately needed help. Of course, in her present state of confusion, she had managed to push most of the people away who could actually have provided her with just that.

Now, with the stress that she was under, things were starting to border on critical.

Seconds later, Belinda's attention drifted to the shadow box. The small figures were scattered across the bed and on the floor, many of them broken and beyond repair. Belinda got down on all fours and tried to find as many of the unbroken objects that she could. These would ultimately be returned to the small shelf. Unfortunately, the wooden shelf was now in two pieces. Belinda concluded however that with a certain amount of glue and a little bit of persistence, she might be able to put it back together.

Perhaps that would help convince her roommate once and for all that she was not 'sick' or 'unwell', and that maybe everything would eventually get back to normal for them.

As she stared at the wooden object, her gaze came to rest on a white colored dress that was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. She had missed this dress during her earlier sweep of Tamara's room, and now she was sitting on the floor and staring up at the object as though entranced.

Seconds later, she tossed the figures she had collected onto the bed before getting to her feet and heading towards the door.

With her attention now diverted, she grabbed the white colored garment, and made her way down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

Her thoughts were no longer centered on making herself seem normal to those in the outside world, but instead, she had concocted yet another idea as to how she could win over Willy Wonka. As this idea started to formulate in her mind, she smiled.

If this did not get his attention then nothing will, she thought as she tossed the dress over a chair and retrieved a large container of pomengranate juice. This is perfect, she thought as she opened the bottle and started to pour the dark red colored contents across the whiteness of the dress.


	51. Chapter 50: Messages

_Hello and welcome to the latest chapter of this story. Now, we're shifting gears and heading back to Tamara and Willy. There is no real mention of Belinda here, but we're still building up to a climatic moment. Just stick with me here, this is a lot more than just fluff. Just a warning to those reading who are easily offended by too much affection, you may want to skip over this. Of course, there is nothing explicit here, that is the story is still T-rated._

_Enjoy the latest installment and many thanks again go out to my super awesome reviewers._

_Have a great weekend._

* * *

**Chapter 50: Messages**

About six hours later, Willy and Tamara had finished their lunch as well as the paperwork. As she sealed the last envelope, she raised her head and smiled at him. "Well, I guess we're done. All the letters are written, and the bills are ready to be posted."

"Thank you for helping me with all of this," Willy said sincerely. "You know, if you weren't already working for one of my friends, then I would hire you myself."

Tamara laughed softly. "It's no great credit to me, I just have a few years of experience with this sort of thing. We can probably mail everything tomorrow when we go shopping for camping supplies."

"Well, perhaps now would be a good time for us to go and check my closets for the things I might need. Since we have the rest of the day to ourselves, we can start by making ourselves a list before we leave tomorrow," he said as he got to his feet. Once he was standing, he retrieved his hat from off the stand and the cane from the rack. Next, he walked in the direction of the sliding doors of the Wonkavator.

Tamara shrank back. "Willy, do we have to take that thing again?"

"It's not going to do anything strange, in fact, it's like any other elevator, it just goes in all different directions." He paused but offered her a reassuring smile. "Come, otherwise it would take a while for us to get there."

"A while?" She asked.

"Yes, well you see, generally it takes twenty, if not thirty, minutes to walk from here to my suite. I've never really timed it, but that's a rough estimate," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Look, you can trust me, I would never ask you to do something if I knew that would bring harm to you. Besides, you've already handled 'up and out' rather well. At this point, I think you can handle just about anything."

Tamara took a deep breath as she watched him press the button and the doors automatically slid open. She hesitantly stepped into the strangely shaped object and watched as Willy placed his cane in the holder next to his seat before sitting down.

He motioned towards one of the other seats and waited for her to sit down beside him. Once she was seated, he blindly reached over to press the button for his room. "Hang on, we'll be there in no time," he said.

Tamara gripped the bar tightly as they began to move. She watched as a number of factory rooms spun past them in a rapid succession of color and light. Eventually, the Wonkavator came to an abrupt stop and she looked up at him, all traces of earlier anxiety now gone. "You were right, that was fast."

He smiled as he got to his feet and reached for his cane. "Yes, the Wonkavator is the most effective way to get around the factory." He extended his hand to her.

Once she stood up, she accepted his offered hand and allowed him to lead her out of the small glass enclosure.

Stepping out into the hallway, they approached a large mahogany colored door at the end of the corridor. The initials WW were embossed in gold in a similar fashion as the writing on the door leading into his office. He pressed down the golden handle and pushed the door open.

Within seconds, Tamara found herself being led into a very large sitting room. Along one wall was a large bay window. As her eyes adjusted to brightness in the room, she found herself staring outside at the panorama of the town's quaint skyline.

Seconds later, she could sense him coming up from behind and wrapping her in his arms as his chin came to rest gently against her shoulder.

"What do you think?" He asked.

Tamara took a deep breath. "It's beautiful," she managed to speak. It was obvious that she was trying to concentrate on his inquiry as opposed to what she felt having him standing so close to her. After several seconds, she turned around and looked up at him.

"It feels as though I've traveled back in time." As these words emerged, she allowed her head to bow slightly, the top of it now resting against the lower half of his chest. There, in his arms, contentment washed over her and eventually she raised her head and stared deeply into his eyes.

Instead of speaking, she waited as he leaned down and captured her lips in a passion-filled kiss, thus making her forget everything else. Soon; Charlie, the bills, and even the reason that they had come to his room in the first place filtered out of her conscience.

All that mattered to her was Willy Wonka.

As she allowed the kiss to intensify, she could suddenly feel the sleekness of his tongue diving into the recesses of her mouth. It was as though he was tasting every last part of her and the more he tasted, the more he craved.

In one fluid motion, he drew back and with a smirk now lining his lips, he picked her up and started to carry her across the room. What surprised him was instead of having her legs dangling down to the floor like two dead weights, she had wound them around his waist and was holding onto him with all her might. Her arms were now wrapped possessively around him and her lips once again sought his.

Seeing this, he allowed his lips to once more capture hers as a soft moan emerged from the recesses of his throat. Possessed by a force that was much greater than either of them could realize, Willy carried his precious cargo into the bedroom.

Without so much as breaking the kiss, he went over and sat down on the edge of the large bed with her still wrapped in his arms. As they drew back, she whispered his name, the single word emerging as a mere exhalation of breath. "Willy."

"Tamara," he mumbled her name in the same manner as he had done the night before. It was spoken with a casual smirk, thus indicating that all of this was some sort of inside joke. He reached over and brushed his hand gently through her hair.

Tamara sighed as recalled how her only encounter with a man had been Neil and how he had only taken what he wanted but never gave anything in return. Now that she was wrapped in Willy's arms, she felt her yearning for release grow by leaps and bounds. It was more than clear that she wanted nothing more than to feel him touch her in the same loving manner that he had kissed her. She knew that Willy was a far cry different than anyone she had ever met in her life. Perhaps because she knew that he never would have demanded anything of her.

Instead he gave it; freely and willingly.

Seconds later, she could feel his hands lightly moving from her neck and shoulders down to lightly touch the skin beneath the soft fabric of her dress. After some moments passed, however, he moved his hands back up before raising his head and looking at her. Wordlessly, his gaze suddenly shifted to indicate his hands, which were now positioned between the back of her neck and the dipping collar of her dress' neckline. Tamara could tell that he was silently seeking her approval in the continuation of this particular journey.

What a wonderful man, she thought. He would never demand anything without seeking her assurance that it was alright.

A tingling sensation began to fill her as she nodded her head and felt his fingers lightly sinking down beneath the neck of the dress. As his light touch breezed its way further down, she could feel a spray of goose bumps abruptly meeting his expectant fingers.

Shyly, she raised her hand and touched the bowtie that was bunched at his neck. Carefully, she managed to loosen the simple, yet flamboyant, article that obstructed her path. Once it had had been pulled away from him, she allowed it inch out of her hand and fall onto the floor.

With the object now freed up, she leaned closer to him and started to unbutton the neck of his shirt.

At that moment, however, Tamara's thoughts started to run rampant on her. The battle between her lust and her conscience was now in full force, the voices in her head had somehow reached infinite proportions, thus causing her to think twice about what she was doing.

_You are seducing your kidnapper,_ her conscience was now boldly shouting. _Are you out of your mind?_

_I love him, _her desire retaliated._ I want him so badly, it hurts._

_He kidnapped you, Tamara, and his actions is probably the reason that Belinda went bananas and destroyed all of your things,_ her conscience continued as she felt his hand inching closer to slide the strap of her bra down her left shoulder.

_But he didn't do that, it was Belinda,_ her uncharacteristically weak response shot back as the strap rested against her upper arm.

Of course, in the end, her conscience won out and everything that she felt was suddenly made to feel dirty and wrong. Instead of being able to do what she really wanted, her drive melted away until she was left stiff and unmoving in his arms.

She did not realize that this was what had happened to her until Willy's voice brought her back to the moment. "Tamara, what's the matter, my dear?" He asked softly as he moved his hands immediately away and was now trying to use his thumbs to wipe away the tears that were now freely streaming down her cheeks.

It was abundantly clear that the chocolatier was completely unaware of the internal battle that was raging inside of her. Eventually, she raised her head and looked at him, her voice a soft stammer. "I-I c-can't," she whispered brokenly.

The kisses had been enough to make her forget what had initially happened, but her conscience would not permit it. At that moment, any sort of bonding that could happen between them was not going to happen, at least not yet.

"Then we'll just wait until you are ready," Willy replied gently. Within seconds, as though nothing had happened, the chocolatier stood up and with her still in his arms, he ceremoniously put her gently back on her feet.

Tamara remained where she was, her arms wrapping around herself. She raised her head and looked at him. "I'm so sorry Willy. I thought I was ready."

"It's alright," he said as he formally offered his arm to her. "Now then, I think perhaps we ought to go back into the sitting room."

She nodded as she felt herself being led out of his warm and darkened bedroom and into the lights of the Victorian aged sitting room.

As soon as her eyes managed to adjust to the new light, she began to once more take in the dark burgundy colored cabinets and wooden paneling. It was clear that she was trying everything she could to divert her focus from what had just transpired between them to the newness of his living room.

With her thoughts still drifting, she was grateful that this was one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen in her life. It distracted her long enough that she was able to sense the overwhelming warmth and kindness that embodied the man who owned it.

Slowly, she walked the length of the room and approached the shelves that lined one of the walls. There, she found herself standing in front of a very high bookshelf. As she began to run her fingers along the spines of the books that adorned it, she could see the tittles of classic and children's literature as they peered out at her. Somehow, this told her that not only was Willy Wonka a lover of language and classic literature, he also carried an essence of childlike whimsy. This somehow reminded her of his love of the childhood classic Peter Pan.

After several minutes, her attention shifted and she recognized something that she once had. The matching mahogany colored shadow box was hanging next to one of the cabinets. This caused even more tears to unconsciously sting her eyes. She wondered if she had actually been at her apartment, if her grandmother's gift would still be intact.

Silently, she walked over to the object that hung from two tiny screws on the wall. As she beheld the small figurines that were carefully placed inside of it, the tears tumbled down over her cheeks.

Reaching out her hand, she ran her fingers along the side of the object, but no words emerged. Instead, she merely tried to divert her attention away from it and back over to the other objects that were hanging in various stages throughout the room.

On one of the walls, just to the right of the door they had entered, Tamara found herself staring at a small matching stand were a group of canes were displayed in various wood tones. Above the cane holders, she saw a long rack where about five or six large top hats in various colors were displayed.

Next to them and hanging on the wall in about a dozen matching frames, she could make out pictures that looked as though they had been drawn by children. Beckoning her closer, she took in the artwork. For whatever reason, these reminded her of her mother's refrigerator back in Somerdale. Her nieces and nephews were at that age where they had similar artistic styles. Despite herself, Tamara felt her lips turning upwards into a tiny smile.

Stepping even closer, she recognized that each of these drawings were of him. His features were more defined in some, his nose bigger or smaller in others. However, all of them were distinctly of the chocolatier on the day that he had welcomed the Golden Ticket winners into the factory.

The children had no doubt seen him in the paper or at the factory gates and tried to capture his image with crayon and water colors. They then had posted their drawings to him. In all the pictures he was dressed in the very same style; a purple waistcoat, green bowtie, floral print vest, and caramel colored top hat. It was as though the children had drawn their hero and shared their creative gifts with him as they would a favorite actor or singer.

She smiled at the sheer animated look of each of the drawings. Looking down, she noticed that they were all signed with various names; Spencer, Portia, Reggie, and Erica. It appeared as though all of them were huge fans of the reclusive chocolatier. Through this alone; Tamara was left to ponder if these children had even known that their artwork had found a place of honor in the chocolatier's private rooms.

Hesitantly, she reached out and touched one of the frames, her fingers stroking the smooth surface of it.

"There are letters and pictures of these children on the other side of their drawings," Willy said. Heeding these words, the chocolatier watched as she took down one of the pictures and gently ran her hand over the glass covering the drawing. Turning it over, she smiled weakly as she looked at the letter and tiny snapshot. Instead of commenting on it, she began to read the child's uneven script.

* * *

_Dear Mister Wonka,_

_When I grow up, I want to be just like you. My name is Portia and I'm seven-years-old. I'm not very good in school, but I love candy, and that should be enough to be a candy maker too. Right?_

_I wanted to come see you on October first, but we live really far away and my daddy couldn't get off work. My cousin said that I could write you and send you my drawing, but she said that you might be too busy to answer. I hope you like it, art is my favorite subject in school and my teacher says I'm pretty good at it._

_Love and kisses, _

_Portia_

* * *

Pausing, Tamara looked at him for some sign of modesty. What she saw was him standing and merely watching her every move. She noticed that the envelope with the postmark was just below the letter. Squinting somewhat, she managed to read the return address. "Willy, it says that this child is from Somerdale."

"Perhaps, but the letter is well over two years old," Willy said. He reached for the framed picture and as soon as she had surrendered it, he ran his hand over it as he continued speaking. "You know, it's letters like this that really made me happy about what I do. These children are truly inspirational. Whenever I look at the pictures and reread the letters, I can't help but smile."

"Did you ever answer them and tell these kids that what they did left a positive impact on you?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" She asked somewhat surprised. "Everyone wants to think that they did something nice for another person. If nothing else, then it's born from a simple act of gratitude."

"I never really knew what to say in response," he admitted softly.

"Then maybe going to see this little girl is just what you need," Tamara said. "Right now; we both know that a letter can leave a negative impact or impression on a person, but isn't it possible that they can also do something positive?"

"Perhaps," he mused as he returned the framed drawing to its place on the wall.

"I know that you are not really certain about the issue with the mail, but I can tell that you do feel something about these letters and what these kids have done for you." She touched his face. "It might be just what you need. After all, we are planning to go to Somerdale anyway, right? Maybe you should stop by and at least say 'hello' and 'thank you' to Portia."

"I don't know," he said before he started to walk back over towards the large window opposite them. After several seconds, Tamara started to follow him, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Maybe you do," she said, her words laced in weakness. She sat down on the nearby sofa and allowed her head to rest against one of the cushions.

Willy turned around, but when he saw her, he came over and sat down next to her. "Are you sure you're alright?" He asked. "You're not having a relapse from the allergic reaction, are you?"

"No, I'm fine," she whispered.

"But, something is troubling you," he said. "Will you at least tell me what it is? Or do I get the pleasure of watching you abuse your lower lip again?"

"To be completely honest, I don't know what's the matter with me," she said softly. "Willy, I guess I'm just a little bit confused."

"Why?" He implored softly. "If there's something you need, anything I could give you, then you know that I would, don't you?"

Tamara nodded. "I know all that, but the problem is you can't turn back time."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well, look at what happened in the other room," she began.

"You weren't ready," he said softly. "It's understandable."

"It's not just that," she whispered. "I mean; when I look at those drawings on the wall and I think about all the wonderful things that you have done for everyone else, I realize that I still can't forget what happened."

Willy's face lost some of its color as he regarded her. "I'm trying to make that up to you."

"I know you are and believe me, I've tried so hard to forget, but I can't. Willy, I'm so confused right now and on top of that, I'm having this battle inside of me. A part of me is arguing that you are the most wonderful man I've ever met in my life, but the other side of me is claiming that the way we went about meeting is strange. I mean; what do I say if someone out there were to ask us how we met?"

"Perhaps we could say that we met on a bench outside the factory grounds," he said. "I know that it wasn't until you were inside that you realized that, but that was where we met the first time."

Instead of speaking, she simply leaned her head up against his shoulder and felt his hand brushing gently across her cheek. She raised her hand and touched the softness of his fingers.

After several moments, she shook her head as she felt him withdrawing his hand and his gaze locked on her, the pain evident in his eyes as his question emerged.

"Tell me truthfully," he began, his voice etched in hardness. "Did you really forgive me, Tamara? Or did you simply say all those words because you were afraid of how I might react if you had said that the answer was 'no'?"

Tamara raised her head and looked at him, her eyes wide.


	52. Chapter 51: Finding True Forgiveness

_Hello and welcome to this latest installment. After having spent all morning messing about with the stupid computer (I couldn't get logged in), I am finally getting the chapter polished and posted between running scans on it and making lunch. I am hoping to get busy this afternoon and post the next installment of 'In Another's Eyes'. I still have a goal of finishing that story very soon._

_Otherwise, thanks to my wonderful reviewers, and I do appreciate your continued support._

_Without further ado, here's the next chapter. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 51: Finding True Forgiveness**

Willy waited for several moments for her to respond. When she did not, he nodded his head in obvious defeat. "I think I understand." Backing away from her he went over to the sofa and sat down, his hands he folded over his lap.

"No, you don't," she whispered as she turned around and looked at him. She could feel her knees beginning to tremble slightly, but somehow she managed to motivate her legs so that she could cross over to the sofa and sit down as well. "You couldn't understand."

He raised his head, his blue eyes matching her gaze. "I may have been an insensitive jerk, Tamara, but I do know that I made a mistake. I can also tell that you're still angry with me about it. I robbed you of something that you were somehow reminded of when you looked at those drawings."

She nodded as she lowered her head and rubbed her hands nervously together. "What you did to me was cruel and it was wrong."

"Don't you think I know that?" He asked, his voice filled with frustration. "Do you honestly believe that I have ceased reflecting on the things I put you through?"

"I know you didn't," she said sadly. "You've been dwelling on it so much since it happened that I felt awful whenever it was even mentioned. I didn't tell you how much it terrified and hurt me. Am I really so wrong for feeling this way?"

"No," he whispered.

"Then why is it that I have this feeling that you believe this to be one of those 'kiss and make up' things. We kissed, but I can't forget that it happened." She shook her head. "God forgive me, but I can't and there's nothing that you could say or do that will change that." She paused as she tried to wipe a trembling hand over her face. "When I said before that I forgave you, I did mean it. Perhaps my forgetting it is what you would prefer, but that cannot happen in the way that you wish."

They both sunk into an awkward silence, which was only shattered when she found the courage to look at him and continue speaking. "When I looked at those drawings those kids made, a part of me was reminded of how I was once like them; innocent and full of dreams. I remembered the days when I was little and wrote letters to celebrities. I remembered telling them that I admired them and was enamored by their work. But, these were all fantasies and they were perhaps the furthest thing from reality that could have existed. I know that I miss that feeling of childlike whimsy that I once had. I had to grow up and find whatever work I could. I had to survive in the best way I knew how. Before all of this happened, I sort of thought of you in the very same fanciful way as these kids do."

"You did?" He asked weakly.

She nodded, her gaze now on the floor. "I was given an image of you through the words that Bill had spoken after I started working for him. It also came about through the candy that I enjoyed. It was like being reminded of when life was more simple and made sense." She took a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong, I know the difference between a public and private persona. I guess through all of this, I came to the realization that I had to accept that you were not the same happy-go-lucky person I had once imagined. Just like me, you had to find a way to contend with the struggles of daily life."

"I thought we talked about all of that in my office," Willy said softly.

"In part, we did," she nodded. "But, do you know what I'm seeing?"

He shook his head, not knowing what she was going to say next.

"I'm seeing a man who has holed himself away and is being haunted by ghosts. You react in anger towards me for not forgetting, and yet, I would prefer it if you could just accept that my feelings real and they exist. I just wish that I could explain this in a way that you would understand."

"Just tell me," he managed to speak.

"My feelings have changed, Willy. They have evolved into what they now are and what I have found here with you."

Instead of immediately speaking, he backed away from her. "Maybe you're right and I have changed," he whispered as his hands clasped one another and his eyes momentarily closed. "But, at one point you did say that you loved me. Was that the truth, or were you just mistaken and what you really love is my candy?"

Tamara took a deep breath, the hurt from his accusation filling her and leaving her feeling a mix between screaming and crying. Biting down on her lip, she could taste the saltiness of her blood. Eventually, she released the hold as she became aware of the tears that were now caught beneath her eyelids. Instead of speaking, she turned away from him.

"It's true, isn't it?" He asked, his voice hard.

"No, it's not true!" She shouted, her voice trembling with so much resonance that it filled the entire room.

"Well, to be honest, I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore," he said hotly. "You are giving off so many different signals here. First you want something and then you don't. I can't decipher what your motives even are."

She shivered at the coldness of his voice, but instead of allowing him to continue, she raised her head and spoke. "You know, I always thought that you would be able to see how I felt. Maybe I am too inexperienced with men to understand much of anything. It seems very clear to me that I've failed miserably at conveying that it's the person that matters."

Willy's face, instead of going completely white, turned red with rage. She was pushing his buttons and he knew it. She knew exactly what to say that would succeed in infuriating him. He wanted to speak, but he could not find his voice. Instead, he sat quietly next to her his hands periodically running through his unruly hair.

After several moments of silence, Tamara somehow found the courage to tell him the things that she needed to get off her chest. "For an overconfident man who wears arrogance like a well-worn shirt, you seem so certain that I am only here for one reason."

"I didn't mean it that way," he managed to speak.

"How did you mean it, then?" She asked softly. "After all; it's not like I came here willingly. You were the one who brought me to that horrible room and practically forced me to eat something that I was deathly allergic to. You were the one who refused to listen when I told you that I was not Belinda." Her voice was still wavering as she continued speaking. "How long do you intend to face the world playing by your own set of rules and not seeing that your actions do leave an impact on other people?"

Willy's eyes widened upon hearing the accusations emerging from her. He did not anticipate her to attack his conscience in this way, but that was precisely what had happened.

Before he could respond to these brutal questions, Tamara continued, her voice laced with sadness. "The worse thing about all of this is how you seem to believe that I am no better than Belinda. You actually believe that I would use you to get what I wanted and then drop you like an old shoe." She got to her feet, her knees trembling uncontrollably as she started to back her way away from the sofa. "Well, if that is what you truly think of me, then I'll walk out of your life right here and now and never darken your doorstep again." Forcing herself not to completely fall apart in front of him, she concentrated all her energy on putting one foot in front of the other and making her way towards the door. "Good-bye, Willy."

"No, Tamara," he whispered softly, with indescribable defeat in his voice. "Please don't go. I want you to stay."

"You have a very strange way of showing it," she whispered, her head lowering. "I mean; if you can't handle my being honest with you, then there is no point to us even trying to have a relationship." She cast a wary glance in the direction of the bedroom, but said nothing further.

"I'm sorry," he got to his feet and practically ran around the sofa and over to her. As soon as he reached her, he wound his arms around her and buried his face against her right shoulder.

After several seconds, she lifted her chin and felt his curly hair against the side of her face. When he continued speaking, she could hear the agony emerging in his words. "I know that you're right. I simply haven't been myself." With both hands, he began to rub them against either side of her face, his thumbs feeling the tears as they cascaded down her cheeks. "Just tell me what I should do."

"Maybe we should call the police," Tamara said, her words filled with simplicity.

Willy allowed these words to sink in for several moments, and then adamantly shook his head. "I can't," he said, his words broken and filled with the same insecurity that she had heard back at his office.

"Why not?" She asked. "Are you afraid that what you did will come out and you'll end up getting arrested?"

"No, that's not it," he whispered. "This isn't about me at all. In fact, I know that Charlie would get along fine if I wasn't here. It's just that there are others who depend on me for their safety and I don't want anyone outside of the factory to know. I have secrets that must be maintained, Tamara, and it's a matter of grave urgency that they are." No further words emerged from him.

She stared at him, her eyes closing somewhat. "But you know that you're not the only one who's afraid."

He raised his head. "I know that, but there are still those who do depend on me."

"Do you mean me?" She asked.

He smiled gently at her, but shook his head. "You don't require my protection, you are strong enough without me."

She looked at him, her eyes widening slightly. Now, for whatever reason, she knew that amidst everything that he was trying to convey to her that in his own way, Willy Wonka was proud of her. These words, amidst all the pain, had somehow made her feel good about herself. It was at that precise moment that she discovered the extent of his sincerity. "Am I?" She whispered.

"Yes," he said with an adamant nod of his head. "You have a strength of character that I lack."

"That's not true," she whispered. "Willy, the truth is…I've never felt this weak in my life."

He turned and looked at her, the emotion in her voice reminding him of the morning when she had woken from the nightmare. She had been disoriented and frightened and sought comfort from the most unlikely source – him. Instead of speaking, he simply waited.

"I'm not as strong as I seem," she whispered. "I want to be strong, and I figured that if I were to act like I was, then it would help you to find yourself again." She looked away, her gaze now on the floor. "You were angry when I told you what Charlie had said, but there was truth to his words. I could tell that you were different. I know that you're not happy right now. Worse still, you're shrouded in mystery, and what you're showing here is nothing more than a façade. Maybe you're just being strong because you want to protect me, I don't really know anymore."

"Is that why you said all of these things? Was that your way of trying to help me or hide your true feelings?" He whispered.

"A little of both," she confessed. "I wanted to help you."

"But, Tamara, you have helped me," he said sincerely. "You did so in ways that you don't even realize."

"I couldn't have," she mumbled. "I haven't been strong, I've just been terrified." She took a deep breath as her next words emerged. "D-do you remember the night just before I had that horrible nightmare?"

Willy nodded. "Yes, I do. When you speak of me being a mystery, I cannot help but say the same about you. I remember just before I left the room to go and retrieve you a pair of socks. You asked me why I cared, and I told you 'I just do'. At any rate, I realized that you were still somewhat angry with me. After I came back, your manner had shifted somehow and you were acting as though you needed my presence." He smiled weakly at that memory. "Somehow I felt that it was simply your body's reaction to the medication. It confused me, but more than anything else, it made me think that perhaps you didn't really hate me as much as I despised myself."

"At first I did hate you," she confessed, "but I guess I was too afraid to act out in any other way. I was in this big room and for some reason, I was terrified about being left alone in there. I was afraid and didn't want to anger you, so I did what I thought you wanted me to do." She closed her eyes trying to block out her fright at having to confess her innermost feelings to him.

"That night, I pretended that I needed your presence, even though I wasn't sure what I really needed, much less, wanted. Then I had that horrible nightmare and I woke up screaming." Despite herself, she shuddered, but allowed her eyes to slowly open. "Y-you were there trying to help me and I was so grateful." She shook her head as though trying to block out the memories. "I don't know why I did any of the things that I did, but now it doesn't matter because you were there. Ever since that moment, you've always been there…" Her words faded as she began to weep softly. "…Always."

Willy, reached over and took her face in his hands, the softness of his fingertips brushing the tears away. "It's because I wanted to be there. It was not because I felt guilty – which I did – but because I wanted it and thought you did as well."

"But y-you said earlier that I just loved the candy," she whispered. "Then you implied that I was only here to use you, but none of that was even true."

"I know," he said softly.

As the tears continued to fall from beneath her eyes, she continued speaking. "I don't know how to behave anymore. I don't know what you expect of me."

"I don't expect anything of you except that you be the person that you are." As he spoke, he continued to let his fingers to brush over her face as he offered her a gentle smile. "It's going to take some time for you to heal from the traumas Neil and I caused you. But you must know that no one expects you to overcome everything in just one day." He took her chin in his hands and tipped it up so that he was looking down into her tear streaked face. With both of his thumbs, he tried to wipe them away. "I would never expect that of you, Tamara."

She closed her eyes as fresh tears streamed from beneath them. "You must think I'm a hopeless wreck."

"No, I don't," he said smiling. "No matter how it is we met, you are still the woman I love." As his words hung in the air of the room, he looked deeply into her eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm so deeply sorry. If I could change what happened, I would do so in a heartbeat." He leaned towards her and gave her cheek a gentle kiss.

"I thought that since the police had gotten Neil, I had to be strong for you and forget what happened that brought me here," she whispered brokenly.

"No, my dearest, you don't have to do any of that for me," he said gently. "It may seem strange to you, but sometimes people have to see their own weaknesses in order to acknowledge their strengths. I think that it is rather out of character for someone to behave as though nothing is wrong after having been abducted by one person and then having another pull a knife on them," he said softly. "Don't you?"

Tamara nodded, but shuddered despite her trying not to start crying. As the memories of what had transpired began to once more catch hold of her, she could feel herself breaking down. She leaned against his gentle touch and shook her head as though trying to block out the images that were now encompassing her. "I was so scared," she confessed. "I thought I was going to die."

"Which time?" He asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"Both," she whimpered softly as she shook her head. "I thought Neil had set you up to do this to me. I was so frightened that – that you were going to torture and then kill me. Y-you said that I got what I deserved and there was a part of me that thought maybe you had been right and I did deserve everything that happened to me."

"No, Tamara, that wasn't right," he said softly. "I should have listened. Somehow, I knew from the moment I brought you into the factory that I couldn't have done anything to hurt you. There was no conceivable way that I could have harmed you."

"I didn't know that," she whispered.

"I know," he lowered his head as a new wave of guilt washed over him. "No matter what the future brings, I will have to live with the knowledge of what I did for the rest of my life."

She looked at him. Although he had claimed responsibility for his actions, she had never even imagined that he would take it as seriously as he had. His eyes were filled with earnestness, his stance encased in determination.

Instead of commenting on this, she took a deep breath. "When you called me 'Belinda', I realized who you were and who you thought I was. Logic was telling me that I should try and tell you that I wasn't her, but there was another part of me that was terrified."

"Terrified?"

She nodded. "I wasn't sure what you would do when you discovered the truth. That was why I was trying to keep you from seeing how sick I was. The truth is, I really didn't want you to know that it was the food that had caused it. I figured that if you would figure it all to be a ploy." She shuddered despite herself. "There's so much I was afraid to say, even after I confessed that I am in love with you."

"You still love me after all of this?" He whispered.

She nodded helplessly. "I love you so much that I'm more afraid of hurting you than I am of hurting myself." She clasped her hands together and lowered her head. "It's strange, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "No, I think it's beautiful."

"What's going to happen to us now, Willy?" She whispered.

"We're going to overcome these challenges by taking one step at a time," he said as he wrapped her gently in his arms and pulled her closer. For a second she tensed, but then relaxed in his hold, her head coming to rest against his chest. "The important thing for you to know is that you can tell me whatever you wish. I think that you have considered my feelings long enough, so now we both should concentrate on yours."

"What if it takes a really long time?" She whispered.

"Then it will take a really long time," he said smiling as he continued to rub her cheeks with his thumbs. "This is your dance, Tamara, you lead and I will follow."

"I love you," she whispered. "That's part of the reason it's so hard to talk about what happened at the apartment. I'm afraid that you'll think I'm less than worthy if I were to tell you what specifically happened."

"No I won't, just tell me whatever you wish," he said softly.

"W-when Bill and I got to the apartment, the first thing I noticed was that someone was inside. Belinda and I had never left the door open before, so I kind of knew that something was wrong. It was like this voice inside my head was screaming at me not to go in and just run away, but I refused to listen to it. Then I saw movement and Neil stepped out into the room. I thought my life had suddenly flashed before my eyes and it was as though everything was going in slow motion. I don't remember much after that except that he grabbed and started to drag me over towards the sofa. I thought that he was going to rape me and at that moment, I realized that I never felt as small and insignificant as I did at that moment.

"After Bill helped me to get away from him, your name was mentioned and Neil said that I was crazy for trying to attract you. I t-told him that we were just friends and that it was not any of his concern. I was so scared, Willy. I didn't know how he would react if I told him the truth. He still didn't listen to me, he just started talking about how you would not be interested in a 'church mouse' like me. I was scared that by some chance there was some truth in those words. I mean; I knew that I was in love with you and that you meant everything in the world to me, but I'm afraid."

Willy took a deep breath, but eventually released it. "Is that why you were uncertain about what could have happened in the bedroom? Did you honestly believe that my loving you was born from guilt or remorse?"

Helplessly, she nodded. "I didn't know what to think. I'm not attractive or even beautiful, I'm just – just an average woman who has spent much of her life running away from her troubles."

"Oh my dear," Willy whispered, all the while shaking his head. "You are beautiful. In fact, you're more than beautiful, you're unique and extraordinary."

She lowered her head, but when she felt his touch never faltering, she opened her eyes to see that he was looking right into her eyes, his hands still stroking her cheeks. "Tamara, you hold a uniqueness in the palm of your hand that makes me think about everything in my life. You motivate me to learn and discover things about myself that I had never known existed. I could have met you anywhere on the face of this earth, and I would still have fallen in love with you."

"Y-you mean, it's not guilt?" She whispered.

Willy shook his head, but smiled gently at her, his gaze never faltering.

"I've been trying so hard to be strong because my nightmare is behind me…" her voice faltered as she felt his fingers touching her lips.

"…Listen to me," he began. "I don't want you to be strong if that means that you are concealing who you truly are. Me – I could write a book about harboring false fronts and living lies, but I don't have to, and neither do you." Leaning over, he allowed his lips to gently brush against hers.

As she felt this, Tamara raised her arms and allowed the kiss to deepen.

Withdrawing several moments later, she could feel the tears still burning beneath her eyelids. Lightly, she touched her lips as she found herself once more opening her eyes until she was looking into the blue eyes of the chocolatier. "I don't know what's wrong with me," she whispered as she cast a glance around the room where they were sitting.

"There's nothing at all wrong with you," he said softly. "It's been a long time coming. You were trying to be something you're not, and you can't any longer. It is perhaps the hardest thing in the world for a person to try and pretend to be brave when emotionally they are completely falling apart."

"I am falling apart, aren't I?" She whispered.

"Just a little, but sometimes it helps to acknowledge these things. You've taught me to acknowledge that my actions left an impact," he smiled gently. "The truth is, I am deeply grieved by what I have done. More than that, I am saddened that in my own ignorance, I hurt you. I caused you so much pain and sorrow and I wish with everything inside of me that I could take it back."

She nodded, but raised her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She wanted him to know that it was not about the candy that he created, but his poetic soul, his loving presence, and the gentle way in which he held her. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words simply would not come.

As they withdrew, she could still feel Willy's fingers brushing against her face, the moistness of her cheeks conveying to him what her unspoken words could not. "I'm sorry, Tamara," he whispered. "One of the things I have learned about myself these past few years is how I sometimes say or do things that hurt; things that I don't mean. What you have to know is that it's not because I am angry with you, but rather with myself." He took a deep breath as her soft words emerged.

"What should I do?"

"Just look at me and tell me that you forgive me for all the painful things I've said and done," he pleaded softly. "I don't expect you to forget, but please tell me that you do without being afraid of how I might react."

Tamara raised her head, but her words emerged with all the sincerity that she was capable of offering. "I forgive you, Willy, now please try and forgive yourself."

"That's easier said than done, I'm afraid," he whispered as he buried his face into her hair. As she felt the softness of his soft blond curls against her skin, she allowed her eyes to close until she completely relaxed in his arms.

Perhaps in the near future they would be able to go beyond just kissing. Yet, at that precise moment, it was clear that it would not happen until they were both emotionally ready to take that particular step.

For now, they would simply embrace the moment for what it was.


	53. Chapter 52: Nights and Satin

_Welcome to the latest chapter of this story. This is a sort of filler chapter, but I think it's important. Here's hoping you enjoy it and thanks to Ya Ya and Stealth Phoenix for sticking with me on this one. Hopefully you will enjoy what I have tossed out today. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last...sorry. :)  
_

_Take care and happy reading. Ya Ya cleared up the yawning bit. Thanks for the heads up. I like clarity in my writing. :)  
_

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**Chapter 52: Nights and Satin**

That evening, Willy was invited to join the Bucket family for dinner. This happened just about every week, only this time things would be different; Tamara was asked to come as well.

This left the chocolatier with a personal dilemma. Where would they be able to find Tamara something suitable to wear? She had, for the last two days been stuck walking around in Clara Bucket's oversized dresses.

The matriarch of the family had told Willy countless times since Tamara's arrival to the factory that he needed to get her something suitable to wear. Seeing as her entire wardrobe had been completely ruined by Belinda, he was pretty much at a loss as to what he could do to rectify that particular situation.

He stepped out into the living room where Tamara was fast asleep on the sofa. After their talk, the afternoon had faded into early evening and since she had been up since six that morning, she had opted to taking an afternoon nap.

Willy smiled as he looked down at where she slept, her short blonde hair draped over a pillow and her arm literally hanging over the end of it. He took a deep breath, but for some reason, his breathing became somewhat heavy. He loved her, but was now emotionally torn as to what he could do to make things right for her. She had so many issues and unresolved questions.

After Tamara had yawned for about the twentieth or thirtieth time during the course of their dialogue, Willy finally made the suggestion that she lay down and try and get some rest. He even set about to lowering the blinds that covered the sitting room windows, thus plunging the room into darkness.

Several moments later, she submitted to his suggestion and allowed him to remove her shoes and helped her stretch out across the sofa. It was, as the chocolatier had promised, comfortable enough to sleep on. In turn, this prevented her from having to return to her room, which was conveniently located on the other side of the factory.

Soon after she had fallen asleep, Willy remembered the skirt and blouse that he had found her in when he had brought her to the factory. The Oompa Loompas had taken the items and laundered them. As soon as she had fallen asleep, he contacted Naibouli and asked him if they had managed to wash the clothing in question. Perhaps they were now clean, pressed, and once again ready for use.

Retreating from the sitting room, he went into his bedroom and walked the length of the room towards the large cabinets where his clothing was stored.

He began to dig around inside, thus looking for a shirt that might match the black colored skirt. Finding an emerald green, short sleeved, shirt, he smiled. This would definitely bring out the color of her eyes, he thought as he pulled it out and inspected it closer.

Good heavens, he thought. When was the last time I saw this anyway? Was it ten or fifteen years ago?

Drawn into the memories of his Cherry Street days, Willy recalled having worn the shirt throughout the formidable years of his youth. This was during the time when he had started to make candy. Keeping the shop adrift had been the hardest time of his life.

Taking a deep breath, he inspected the shirt closer. It looked to be in fairly good shape, at least good enough for her to wear to dinner. Nodding his approval, he tossed it across the bed, before going to the chest of drawers and looking for some short pants. Finding only jeans, he took a deep breath. That will not do for dinner, he thought. Perhaps for camping, or going out on a shopping excursion, but there is no feasible way that I will bring her to the Bucket family in such a state.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and released it as his gaze came to rest on the clock that was on the wall. It read six and they were due at the Buckets' suite at seven. Taking a deep breath he stepped into the sitting room and approached the sofa.

Reaching where she rested, he almost felt guilty about having to wake her. She looks so beautiful lying there, he thought, rather like a very petite little goddess. Smirking slightly, he sat down and leaned over where she rested. "Tamara," he spoke her name softly as he blew a steady stream of air up against her cheek. Seeing her shiver, he started to chuckle softly as he watched her shift her weight. Without warning, he felt her crawl up onto his lap, her head resting comfortably against the top of his legs as she wearily opened her eyes.

"Willy?" She moaned his name as she felt his hand brushing gently through her hair.

"It's time to get up, Sleeping Beauty, we've got a dinner engagement at the Buckets' at seven," he said softly. "I have been seeing about finding you a fresh change of clothes."

"I need to go and get some new clothes tomorrow. I need something that's mine, not always feeling as though I have to borrow stuff from other people," she complained as someone knocked lightly at the door. Sitting up, she freed him so that he could and answer the door.

She watched as he got up, crossed the room and opened the door. He listened for several seconds and then spoke, his voice filtering out into the hallway in such a fashion that Tamara could not fully hear what was happening, but she managed to pick up a smidgeon of their dialogue. "Thank you, Naibouli, you came at just the right moment. I couldn't have timed it better myself."

Seconds later, he closed the door and returned to her side, the items draped casually over his arm as he sat down next to her. "Forgive me for seeming presumptuous here, but since you mentioned clothing, I did take the liberty of having your things laundered."

"My things?" She asked softly as her gaze came to rest on the clothing that she had been wearing when he had abducted her. Swallowing, she stared at the items. Her black skirt, which was alright, but the fact that he held her undergarments so casually in his hand made her face lose all its color.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he took note of her unease. "Perhaps this was a bad idea."

"No, that's not it," she whispered. "I guess it just feels weird for me to see you sitting there so casually with my underwear in your hand."

Willy's mouth opened as though he was about to speak, but like a flash, he abruptly tossed the items at her. They landed against her chest and flopped down onto her lap. "Is that better?" He asked with a coy smirk.

Despite herself, she began to laugh. "Maybe," she giggled somewhat taken aback by his gesture. Instead of speaking further, she looked down at the items with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Would you prefer another shirt?" He asked.

She nodded and watched as he got to his feet, returned to the bedroom, and retrieved the green colored shirt that he had unearthed while she had been sleeping.

Coming out, he returned to the sofa and handed her the silk shirt. "I know it's a man's shirt, the buttons are on the other side, but I thought that maybe it would be alright for tonight. If you don't like it, we could always find you something else."

"No, it's fine," she said as she got to her feet and looked around for a bathroom. "Would it be alright for me to take a shower?"

Willy nodded and helped her to her feet. "Right this way, my dear." He led her over to one of the many doors and opened it. "All the comforts of home," he offered as he waved his hand ceremoniously and watched her go in. As soon as the door was closed behind her, he retreated back to his room to get himself ready for their evening engagement.

* * *

Several hours later, Willy and Tamara returned to his suite. They were both stuffed and very happy. Clara had fixed Willy's favorite, homemade chicken and noodles. It had been a wonderful meal and the Bucket family had done their part to help both of them relax. It was clear that at the onset of the engagement, the atmosphere had been somewhat stilted. After several glasses of wine, and some lighthearted dialogue, the Bucket family had managed to help the couple to relax.

As always, Charlie had been a most cordial of hosts. He was smiling and laughing as they passed around bowls of noodles, chicken, and corn on the cob. After dinner had ended, Clara had noticed that Willy looked tired, and insisted that instead of helping her with the clean-up the two of them should retire for the evening.

At the doorway of the suite, Charlie was the last to say goodnight to them. "I guess, I'll see you tomorrow?" The teenager had asked. When Willy had responded affirmatively, the boy's smile could have lit up a lot full of Christmas trees.

Seeing that his apprentice was genuinely happy raised an overwhelming burden from Willy's conscience. This had indeed been a different manner than what the boy had displayed that morning, but neither Willy nor Tamara really wanted to get into a dialogue about it with Charlie. Instead they simply accepted the boy's happy demeanor as an indicator that life around the factory was trying to get back to normal.

In short, the mood had been light, the food good, and the sense of family had been overtly present.

Instead of going back to the Rainbow Light Room, however, they returned to Willy's suite so that Tamara could collect the things that she had left in Willy's room earlier before they were to part company.

As they entered the large sitting room, Tamara immediately excused herself to go into the bathroom while Willy returned to his own bedroom. Entering the room, the first thing he noticed was that the blankets that covered the bed were still rumpled from when he had seated himself on it earlier with her comfortably seated on his lap.

To the side of the bed and lying limply on the floor, he could make out the silhouette of his bowtie. This remained on the floor long after they had left the room. Seeing it resting there made tears catch in his eyes and he leaned over and picked it up. Seconds passed as he sat down and allowed the silken object to caress between his fingertips.

"It was so wrong," he whispered to the stillness. "I never expected that I would fall in love when all this started." Without thinking, he wiped the green colored object over his face as he felt the tears streaming from beneath his eyes and seeping through the fabric. "I would give my life if it meant making everything up to her that I have done."

He looked down at the pools of moisture that were across the bowtie before tossing it aside, the object snaking itself across the bed. Covering his face with his hands, he managed to move the fingertips across the contours of his face. The moistness of his tears, he stubbornly shoved away.

"Willy?" He raised his head when he heard Tamara's voice. The young woman was standing in the doorway, her eyes hesitantly meeting his. Walking across the room, she spoke, her question soft. "Are you alright?"

He smiled weakly, but nodded his head. "It's been a long day."

She came over to the bed and sat down next to him, her hand she rested on his shoulder. "It's not just that, is it?"

"Perhaps," he said as he raised his hand so that it could touch hers. "Have you retrieved all your things?"

"No, not yet," she shook her head. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked.

"You were angry earlier, and since our fight, you haven't been the same," she said assertively. "You didn't even hold my hand in the Wonkavator on our way back here."

He raised his head, his eyes somewhat wide as he regarded her.

"What?" She asked.

"You called it by its name," he said. "Usually you call it the 'elevator thing'."

"I guess I should get used to calling things by their rightful names," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

He nodded as his gaze once more came to rest on the tie that was still lying across the bed. After several seconds of sitting in silence, her gaze followed his and when she saw this, she swallowed nervously as she looked at him.

"We came very close, didn't we?" She asked. Somehow this simple object represented the feelings and emotions that they carried towards the other.

Willy nodded. "I suppose we did," he said softly.

Tamara reached out and picked up the tie. As she did, she could immediately feel the moisture that covered it. Running it between her fingers, she took a deep breath. "Willy?"

"What is it, Tamara?" He asked.

"I was just wondering why it's wet."

Saying nothing, Willy simply looked away from her, his eyes momentarily closing as he clasped his hands together. More than anything, he wanted to snatch the offending article of clothing out of her hands and toss it away. This seemed preferable than to admit to her that he had grown teary-eyed while he had been seated on the side of the bed. His thoughts continued to wreck havoc on him while he reflected on what might have been.

When no answer emerged from him, Tamara inhaled slowly and reached over and touched one side of his face, thus causing him to turn his head and look at her. "You've been crying," she whispered softly. As if to add emphasis to this, she ran her finger just below his eye and could feel the moisture that was present. "Oh Willy, I'm sorry."

"It's nothing, perhaps it was left over from when I was helping Clara slice up onions to go in the sauce," he offered bravely.

"You're such a liar," she said with a giggle in her voice. After some seconds, her expression hardened somewhat as her voice became serious. "Why can't you just tell me that you're upset? What is about men and crying anyway?"

Willy smirked. "It's not the greatest masculine tradition for one to admit it."

"But, if you are unhappy, then why hide it?" She asked.

"Because I don't want you to feel guilty or as though I expect something more from you than what you have already given," he said. "When we love each other, then we should be on the same page, not be separated by whatever is going on in our minds."

She nodded and smiled. "You are such a sensitive person, but you know, maybe it's not just about me not being ready. Maybe you're not either. I mean; it is wonderful that you want to wait until I'm ready, and maybe in some ways, I'm more ready than you are."

Willy took a deep breath. "I should take you back to your room."

"Why?" She asked.

"It's the right thing to do," he muttered.

"I'm not sure about that," she whispered as she touched his face gently, the softness of her fingers brushing along his jaw line. "Willy, I don't want our honesty to build a wall between us."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Last night we slept in the same bed together and we weren't worried about anything, we were just happy to be together," she said. "Why can't we have that now?"

"I don't know," he managed to speak. "Things have changed."

"Maybe a little," she said as she kicked off her shoes. "Do you want me to stay?"

"More than anything," he mumbled. "I just don't want to hurt you again."

"I know," she said as she crawled over to the pillows and allowed her body to collapse against them. "But, you know, I don't think you could even if you wanted to."

Willy watched her movement and shook his head in disbelief. She was right, although things had changed, there was no reason that they could not get better. Honesty tended to make things better and not worse.

Looking at her lying against the pillows, he knew beyond any doubt that Tamara was there for him, not for his candy or any other thing that he could have concocted in his mind. She was willing to ride this out with him. She loves me that much, he thought as a small smile curved up his lips. God, I'm such a lucky man.

At that moment, it did not matter in the slightest where this journey would take them, all that Willy Wonka knew was that they would be taking it together.


	54. Chapter 53: A Candy Man's Courage

_Hello and welcome. Not to worry, this is leading up to the climax of the entire story. Just enjoy and be patient, I like to get whatever I can out of a plot, and there is a reason for every bit I toss into this story._

_Here's hoping you enjoy and thanks go out to Stealth Phoenix, Ya Ya and Lysi Marie for the support of this story. It means a great deal to me. Thanks to Stealth Phoenix for remarking about the shirt…here's hoping this pacifies your curiosity about why Willy has that particular item in his closets. I also hope that my touching on Tamara's words from the last chapter will offer the proper clarification._

_Oh and although I know that Wilder Wonka doesn't generally stammer over words, I could not help but poke a bit of fun at the overall male psyche about the 'shopping thing'. My husband hates shopping with a passion. It's bad enough when I have to get something for me, but when it's him shopping for himself…forget it. Mail order is a good friend around here. Hehe. Anyway, I wanted to show that even the Great Willy Wonka can be a tad bit nervous about certain things._

_Happy reading. Typo found and corrected, Stealth Phoenix...on the other thing...touché!  
_

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**Chapter 53: A Candy Man's Courage**

The following morning, Tamara opened her eyes. Now, instead of sleeping in the Rainbow Light Room, she was now lying beneath the covers on a bed that was about the size of the Beige Room itself. Although she was comfortable, it took her several minutes to realize what had happened the night before and how she had ended up in this room. She was lying amidst a mass of pillows, her skirt and blouse wrinkled, thus indicating that she had once again slept in her clothing.

A glance to the right showed that Willy was lying next to her, his clothing from the night before now loosened, the top buttons of his white dress shirt undone, and she could see a splash of hair on the now exposed part of his chest.

The confectioner was lying on his back and peacefully asleep. She could hear the soft snores that were emerging from the depths of his throat. His head was cradled by the pillows and his curly masses of hair were framing his face.

At that moment, Tamara's gaze seemed to be completely fixated on him. While she knew that she was staring, somehow she realized that she could not help it. Even in his rumpled and disheveled state, to her, he was simply the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on.

She reached over and lightly touched a lock of his hair and allowed it to coil around her finger. Seconds later, she inched her way closer so that she could feel his nearness. As she moved, his head turned to one side so that he was facing her, his steady breathing tickling her cheek as his hair brushed along her face. His eyes remained closed, thus somehow concealing whether or not he was actually awake.

Relaxing, she allowed her head to rest next to his. When she inhaled, she could make out the sweet scent of vanilla amidst the chocolate that generally permeated the air. The room that she had spent the other nights in somehow carried the distinctive fragrance of chocolate, but his room somehow combined a delicious mixture of both flavors. No wonder she felt so relaxed in this place, she was in the hub of soothing scents just lying there beside him.

She remained where she was for several minutes before crawling off the bed and padding her way in the direction of where she figured might be the bathroom. When she was not certain as to whether or not she was going the right direction, she stopped and tried without success at orienting herself.

Seconds later, Willy's familiar voice abruptly filled her ears. She turned around to see that he was now sitting up on the bed and watching her. "Just keep going straight, the bathroom is on the left near the door leading into the sitting room." Somehow, he could tell that she was still somewhat disoriented since she was not yet fully awake.

At that moment, the soothing sounds of guitar music abruptly filled the room. Instead of reaching over and lowering the volume, he watched as she padded her way to the bathroom.

Once she had disappeared into the room at the end of the countless rows of cabinets, Willy's attention diverted and he leaned over in order to turn off the alarm clock.

Managing this, he pushed the covers aside and crawled out of bed, before heading straight to his closets. Opening the first one he reached, his gaze took in the various suits and jackets that hung there.

Casual clothing for camping, he thought as he threw open yet another cabinet and noticed the shirts with various colors hanging on the racks. He smiled as he remembered finding the shirt he had given to Tamara the night before. It seemed so out of character for him today, but twenty years ago, someone told his teenage self that it had been part of the latest craze. Being somewhat naïve about clothing, he had bought the shirt, only to pack it away in the bottom of his dresser drawer once he had returned home.

Of course, seeing Tamara wearing that shirt the night before somehow reminded him of his days on Cherry Street. The memories were rather vivid contrary to his not seeing the point of wearing the shirt in the first place. Velvet was more his style than silk, although unbeknownst to the media, he generally dressed in silk pajamas when he was not sleeping in his clothing.

Willy smiled slightly as he pulled a blue flannel shirt out, the softness of the fabric brushing against his fingertips. Taking it off the hanger, he tossed it casually across the bed as he opened a third cabinet looking for a pair of jeans.

Tamara had said that I would need something warm and I really hate the cold, he thought as he threw a pair of jeans onto the bed. Returning to the drawers that were on the other side of the room, he started digging through them in search of socks and underwear. Tossing several items across the bed, Willy was so caught up in what he was doing that he didn't hear that Tamara had finished and was coming out of the bathroom.

"Good morning," she said as she walked slowly over to him. From behind, she wrapped her arms around him.

"Hello, my dearest," he said softly. He stopped everything he had been doing, turned, and returned the embrace. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than I would have, had you sent me back to the other room to spend the night alone," she said as she looked up at him. "I was more afraid of being alone last night than I was during my first night in that colorful room."

"You were afraid that we would have built up a wall between us if I had sent you to sleep there again last night," he said gently.

She nodded sadly. "I was afraid that my being honest would be misinterpreted. I figured that it was supposed to help, but sometimes even that backfires and it ends up hurting the other person. When I saw you fiddling with the bowtie, I knew what had happened. That's what compelled me to say it in the first place."

"So that's what you meant," he said. "You were really afraid that this would hurt what we had found instead if heal the pain I caused you."

She nodded. "Yes."

Willy leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to her lips. "You showed me that that will not happen, so try not to worry. Besides," he smiled gently at her. "I'm quite good at breaking down walls, especially ones made of rock candy. Those are the tastiest kinds to dismantle."

Despite the earnestness of their dialogue, she smiled. "Somehow I get the feeling that your symbolism is a far cry better than regular bricks." She paused. "Willy, thank you for understanding why I was afraid last night."

"Well, you understood my fears too," he said smiling. "Now, why don't we get ready to go out and leave the philosophy for another time?"

"Agreed," she said with a nod of her head before casting a glance across the bed. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could get a pair of pants to wear today, would you?" Contrary to the warmth she had found in Willy's arms, she was still cold and her shivering demonstrated this.

Willy nodded as he reluctantly backed away from her and walked over to one of the dressers. He opened it and then began to rummage around inside for something that could possibly work. Finding a pair of long walking shorts that generally went down to his shin, he pulled them out and held them up. "Would these work?" He asked.

"I don't know, I might need a belt," she said honestly. "You're a bit…"

"…Fatter or chunkier than you?" He finished for her, his descriptive words making her smile. "Heavier, chubbier, uh, plumper maybe?"

"Actually, I wasn't thinking like that at all. I was wanting to say larger, or taller," Tamara giggled. "I would never call you fat, in fact, you could probably give those fad diet places a serious run for their money." She continued to giggle as she bunched up her skirt and started to pull the jeans on underneath it.

Fastening them, she took off the skirt and tossed it on the bed before once again looking up at him. "Good?"

He smiled. "Actually, I never looked so good in those."

"Why do you keep an assortment of old clothes around?" She asked as she snatched a flannel shirt from off the bed.

"I always liked to remember the old days, I guess," he said as he glanced towards the items that were now strewn across the bed. "There were some good memories in that old shop. Besides, one never knows when one will have such delightful company as that which you have provided." He smiled wickedly at her.

Tamara sat down next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes memories are rather nice things."

He nodded as he regarded the wrinkled shirt she wore. "You'd better get dressed, we have a full day ahead of us. I'm actually going sh-sh…" His voice trailed off.

"…Shopping;" she finished for him. "Oh come on Willy, it's nothing to be afraid of. If I can handle it than anyone can."

"Perhaps, but I have to go outside in broad daylight and watch women swarm over sale racks. Don't you dare tell me that that's not dangerous. I've seen enough movies to know that mere thought of it puts fear into the heart of the bravest man," he said with a shudder. "In truth, I think I'd rather meet Slugworth in a dark alley than go and buy stuff."

By this time, Tamara had managed to change into the flannel shirt and allowed it to hang down to her knees instead of tucking it in. There was a sort of sporty look about her, but instead of bantering back at Willy about his fears of going outside, she smiled up at him as she tried to distract his nervousness. "This is so perfect. The first grungy normal like clothes I've gotten to wear in days."

"Normal clothes, in my closet no less," Willy's earlier worries melted away to one of his natural smirks. He got up and went over to the closet and started digging through slacks and shirts for something he would need for a shopping trip.

Just as he was about to pull out a bright red colored waistcoat, Tamara spoke his name. "Willy?"

He turned around. "Yes?"

"If you don't want to get recognized or mobbed, you better not dress like a stop sign," she said bluntly.

"Now just hold on, this is one of my finest jackets, it was designed by a famous Italian designer just for me," he said.

"I'm not doubting that, except to say that it would draw attention like a red cape attracts a bull. I know that I don't know squat about clothing or designers, but I do know antagonism when I see it, and if you go out dressed in that, then you're the matador and Belinda's the bull."

As if to add emphasis to these words, she shoved the slacks off the bed and let them fall to the floor. She then picked up the jeans that he had tossed there for camping and threw them at him. "You have to wear these."

"But those are for camping," he objected.

"They are also normal," she shot back. "You don't want people to know that it's you walking around town, do you? I just think it would be safer for you to stay as low profile as possible. That means you have to trust me to pick out something for you that would make people not do a double take when you walk by."

Nodding, Willy backed away from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.

Several minutes later, he came out to find her nervously holding a flannel shirt in her hands. She was running the fabric between her fingers, but raised her head and looked at him.

"You look good," she said.

"Do I?" He asked as he pulled her into a half embrace, thus emphasizing that she only came up to his shoulders. Sinking into his embrace, she started to ponder how it was that someone who made so many wonderful things had actually never been camping.

I just hope that these new experiences would be fun for him, she thought to herself. She knew that she did not want him to be disappointed in the time they spent together.

Backing away from the embrace, she went over to the bed and began to fold the articles he had haphazardly tossed across it. For his part, he took off the white shirt before grabbing one from off the bed.

While he was distracted with the blue flannel shirt, Tamara started looking around the room for a rucksack to take with them when they went shopping. She knew that she would need to buy some graham cracker, marshmallow, and chocolate to make some special treats for their trip. It was for that reason that some regular Wonka bars were at the very top of her shopping list.

As she watched him finish getting ready to go out, she sighed. Perhaps Willy would be able to enjoy the day, but to Tamara, it would only demonstrate the fact that she was truly starting over.

* * *

Some two hours later, after having had breakfast, Willy and Tamara managed to sneak beyond the factory grounds and were now out on the street. Willy's entire stance was now a far cry different than that of a famous confectioner. In fact, his typical style was replaced by dark sunglasses and a baseball cap. It was quite a difference from the eccentric man that Tamara had become acquainted with during the past few days.

As they walked, she raised her head so that she could take in the sunshine as it cast rays down on them. The brightness of it was now highlighting his hair and making it look even more blond than she had initially thought. She kept one of her arms wrapped around his waist and rested her head against his upper arm. "Sometimes, I think you're too tall," she remarked.

"No, you're just too small," he smirked, as he slowed down so that his pace could better match with hers. "You were right about one thing, though."

"What's that?" She asked.

"About my trying not to look too conspicuous," he said as they reached the end of the esplanade and stopped. He cast a glance around, all the while noticing that the locals were walking right past them without so much as saying a word. "Where to first?"

"First we have to post these letters and then we have to go to Bill's," she said firmly. "There are a few things I still need to get at his shop."

"Really?" He asked.

They approached the post box and she wrenched herself out of the rucksack and sat it on the ground in order to open it. Once she managed to pull the entire stack of envelopes out, she waited for him to lift the latch on the mailbox.

Dropping the entire stack into the box, she straightened out as Willy glanced around. When he noticed that they were alone, he leaned towards her and spoke, his voice a soft whisper. "Must we go back to Bill's?" He asked. "After all, we do have all the candy we need back at the factory."

She looked up at him and gave him a secretive smile. "I have a few surprises of my own in store for you. It would seem wrong of me to ask you as it would ruin my surprise."

He nodded. "Alright, than to Bill's it is."

As they started to make their way in the direction of the candy shop, Willy noticed that she kept her arm around his waist and was trying to stay in step with him. Often, he found that he had to slow his steps so that she could keep up.

"Do you think Belinda will show up there?" Tamara eventually asked him, the nervousness apparent as she looked around.

"Well, if she does, then perhaps she won't recognize me," Willy said softly. "Maybe she'll think that I'm just some guy off the street. The one we should probably be worrying about is Bill. You do realize that the minute we step into his shop, he's going to think that we have both gone and flipped our lids."

"Probably," she said with a nervous giggle. "But isn't it better for us to be able to go outside instead of keeping ourselves locked away like prisoners?"

Willy nodded. "Yes, you're right, it is," he said as they reached the door leading into the shop. Opening the door, he ushered her inside and closed it behind them. They then approached the counter and Bill raised his head from his work and looked at them, his eyes widening in surprise.

"What on earth are you two doing here?" He asked, his voice bordering on a protective demand. "And what sort of clothes are those?"

"Camping clothes," Tamara said. "Willy and I are going camping."

"I'll have you know that Belinda has been in here practically every day since your impromptu visit," he said.

"We figured that, but I just need to pick up a few things and then we'll be out of your hair," Tamara said.

"What do you need?" Bill asked as she handed him a small list. He unfolded it and began to scoot about the shop in order to collect the things she had listed. As soon as he was finished, he handed her the bag and watched as she placed the purchases inside the small rucksack.

Once she had paid for the items, Bill smiled as he watched her return it to her back. "When all this stuff gets settled, we can talk about your work schedule," he said, his gaze now on Tamara. "I hope you don't think ill of me for doing so, but I did Meagan a job like Willy suggested."

"No, that's fine, I've sort of been moonlighting myself, anyway," Tamara said with a tiny smile.

"Let me guess; the paperwork, right?" Bill looked at Willy, a knowing smirk lining his face. When the two of them nodded, he continued. "Let me guess, you couldn't even convince Mr. Wilkenson to take over that mess?"

Willy's eyes widened and with the palm of his hand he tapped his chest as if to ask 'who me?'. This left both Tamara and Bill chuckling.

When Bill recovered first from his amusement, he looked at Willy. "I know for a fact hat you have never been the world's greatest with paperwork and organization. Unless it's eatable, otherwise, you're as hopeless a mess as your office. Maybe Tamara is a positive influence on you."

Willy nodded. "perhaps."

"Well, then I should advise you both to be careful while you're out and about. Just because Belinda has not yet shown her face here today, does not mean that she is taking a day off. I figure that she will show up here looking for Marshmallow Rounds eventually and it would not be wise for you to be in the neighborhood when that happens."

Willy took a deep breath. "You're probably right, but you do realize that I am just another step closer to discontinuing that variety."

"No great loss, it doesn't sell very well anyway. That is unless you count Tamara's overwhelming consumption of them." He chuckled as he nudged her. When she shrugged her shoulders, he looked at Willy upon the realization that she did not react emotionally to the chocolatier's words.

Willy smiled. "I already promised her that I would still make them for her. You won't get a rise out of her that way."

Bill nodded. "Alright then, is there anything else you both need?"

"I don't think so," Willy said, but looked at Tamara who also shook her head.

"I'll call you next week sometime about my hours," she said. "Is that alright, Bill?"

The candy seller nodded as they left the shop.


	55. Chapter 54: Out and About

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. A loud shout out and thanks to my sometimes partner in mischief, Stealth Phoenix, for the idea about my heroines living away from the factory. I don't like falling into the CatCF version of factory entrapment. So, cheers to her for that._

_Otherwise, here's hoping that you will enjoy this latest bit, and thanks again to Stealth Phoenix, Lysi Marie and Ya Ya for sticking with this story and giving me a reason to post it. Happy reading, and enjoy the tiny cliffhanger at the end._

_Enjoy, and for speedy updates, there's a button at the bottom of the screen that you can use. ;) The review monster here needs to be pacified. :evil laughter:_

_Oh and Stealth Phoenix, I made the currency British Pounds...which 989 Pounds is a heck of a lot of money, even from our Euro exchange rate._

* * *

**Chapter 54: Out and About**

Once they had stepped outside, the couple walked the length of the square and started to make their way down one of the shopping streets. After several minutes, Tamara stopped walking and looked up at a group of buildings, a smile gracing her lips.

"Why are we stopping?" Willy asked.

"See that group of buildings over there?" She asked and pointed.

"Which ones are you looking at?" Willy asked.

"Those over there with the Victorian styled balconies," she said with a dreamy look on her face. "The thing is, when I left Somerdale, I looked at one of those apartments and fell in love with it."

"Why didn't you move in there?" He asked.

"They wouldn't let me, I was unemployed and they figured me as a high risk renter and wouldn't even consider it as an option. So, I ended up in that other place paying even more rent," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Anyway, I walk by this place just about every day after I got off work and sometimes I would just stop and stare up at it. It was simple, but still nice. I guess it became a dream of mine to live in such an old building with wooden floors. I thought it would be sort of fun." She looked at Willy. "Maybe I could move there after Belinda gets caught."

"What do you mean?" He asked. "I thought you were going to stay with me."

Tamara turned and looked at him. "I can't do that," she whispered.

"Why not?" Willy asked.

"Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life depending on someone else. I have to earn my keep and do what is right for me. If I stay with you, then I will never know what it really means to be on my own. I will just be hanging around your place with no defined goal in mind." She shook her head. "That wouldn't be fair to either of us. I have to try to do this my way. I can't live out my days feeling as though I'm completely dependent on someone else. Even someone as wonderful as you."

Willy flushed slightly as he took her hand and kissed it gently. Once he lowered it, he took a deep breath but spoke. "You know I don't want you to think that."

"I know, but isn't it enough that I have decided not to go back to Somerdale?" She asked softly. "I'm going to stay here in town so we'll be closer to each other."

"I'm glad about that," he said. "But, Tamara, would you at least permit me to help you a little?"

"No, I will not," she said looking at him sternly.. "Part of being independent is being able to find my way without taking handouts." Her expression softened. "If it makes you feel better, I will still indulge in Marshmallow Rounds, so you can bring me as many of those as you'd like."

"From the looks of it, I'm not going to win this particular argument, am I?" He asked softly.

"No, but consider this. You said that I could work for you and help tend to the paperwork because you hate it. So, why don't you draw me a general contract, and let me work for you and earn my keep that way. I will then be able to work part time for Bill, and part time for you, that adds up to full time employment. It would also be enough to satisfy the landlord about them getting their rent each month. I have some savings that could be used for the security deposit, so that will work wonderfully if you agree to it."

"I don't want you to just work for me, though," he said with obvious defeat. "Tamara, I want you to be my girlfriend."

Tamara looked around where they were standing. This is really a fine place for them to talk about their feelings for one another. Instead of continuing with this internal conflict, she reached up and touched one side of his face. "I can be both. You just have to let me earn my keep and then we both can have what we want. You will have me, but also someone who doesn't mind doing the boring paperwork and who wants her own place." Instead of continuing to speak, she wound her arms around him as she looked up at him. "It would also give you a chance to leave home now and again and see the outside world."

"That's geography," he muttered softly.

"Perhaps, but it's also means home cooked meals, going on dates, playing in the mud and doing those things that you have never done but always aspired to do." This time she was smirking. "I think it would do you a world of good. After all, sunshine is perhaps what you need the most." She hiked up her sleeve of her shirt and pressed her bare arm against the side of his hand. "You see, you're as white as a sheet. That's not healthy. You need to get outside more anyway. Having me living across town from your home could be just the ticket."

"Is it what you really want?" He asked. "To have that apartment and be separated?"

She took a deep breath. "Look, I don't want us to be separated, but just because we are going to live separately does not mean that we are always going to be apart. I don't want that. But, I do think it might prove helpful for me to be on my own. That way you and Charlie can work and he doesn't feel 'squeezed out' by my presence. Don't you see? I want to feel as though I am more than just your girlfriend."

"Alright, then take apartment if that will make you happy and feel independent. You know that I can't refuse you." Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly. "I'm not exactly happy with this arrangement, as I like having you safe at the factory, but since you insist on it, I will concede. However, I do have to make a request of my own in this regard."

"What's that?"

"Under no circumstances do I want you to have anymore roommates," he said smiling slightly. "If we are going to date and do all the things that you mentioned just now, then I don't want you to have to contend with anymore strangers. If you had someone else there, then I would have to refrain from visiting you, which I do not want to do. That means, if there is a problem, then you come to me about it. Are we in agreement on that?"

Tamara nodded. "Definitely. After everything that's happened, you're not the only one who doesn't want anymore roommates. You should also know that if I could have gotten by without having Belinda around, then I would have."

Willy smiled and nodded. "Alright, then next week, we'll go to there and see about getting you the apartment you want."

"You're going to come with me?" She asked.

"If you want me to," he said. "It's been close to twenty years since I had to get a place, so I don't know if you would need or require my assistance in the matter."

Instead of responding, she gave him the biggest hug she could muster. "Have I told you lately that I love you?" She asked.

The chocolatier smiled and nodded as their embrace loosened and they distanced themselves from the building. Making their way along the street in the direction of the shopping district, they stopped when they came upon a small boutique.

Reaching the shop, Willy began to take in the dresses and other things that hung in the window display. "Perhaps we ought to stop here and have a look around," he suggested. "They seem to have nice things inside."

"It's too formal, besides, if I'm going to get an apartment and go camping, then I should probably try and get something casual," she said. "Besides, I can't afford those prices, anyway."

Ignoring her last words, the chocolatier continued to stare at the purple colored dress that was hanging in one corner of the window. "Tamara, do you at least like that one?" He asked pointing. "It's my favorite color."

"It's beautiful," she said, as she looked from the scooping neckline to the flowing skirt. Despite her not wanting to, she truly liked the dress, and pondered how it would look on her. Of course, that was until she was close enough to see the large 989 pound price tag that hung from the spaghetti strap top of the dress. "Well, there's always the lottery," she mumbled as she started to back away from the window. "It would seem as though I cannot afford myself."

He put his arm around her. "Would you maybe accept it as a gift?"

She raised her head and looked at him. "A gift?"

"Yes, I would give it to you and you would wear it for me," he said offering her a quirky smile. "That seems a rather fair tradeoff if you ask me."

"You mean, you want to buy me a dress?" She asked.

"Yes, but only if you would not view it as an insult or think that I was trying to buy you off or some other such nonsense," he said earnestly. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but all of your things did get ruined because of me…"

"…No, it wasn't because of you," she interrupted. "It was because someone got jealous and took out their anger on my stuff. It's not your fault. Besides, everything I owned that was destroyed would probably add up to less than the price of that dress."

Willy continued to stare at the dress until he felt her head now resting against his shoulder. "Perhaps, but I would still like to do something nice for you," he mused.

"I know, you've been saying that for the last few days now, but that dress is so expensive," she objected. "The price alone could probably help feed a village in a third world country." As she noted his disappointment, she inhaled slowly, but released it before continuing to speak. "I don't need such an expensive gift."

Willy looked at her, but took a deep breath before speaking. "Then could we make a compromise?" She looked at him as if to ask about what he meant, but before she could utter so much as a word, he continued. "Seeing as you seem to be rather uncomfortable about accepting extravagant gifts from me, perhaps we might find a similar dress in another shop that doesn't have such a high price tag. Would you consider accepting it then?"

"I think I like that idea better," she said nodding. "But, first we have to get the things for camping and my work," she said as she pointed down the street. "I know just the place too, it's probably one of my favorite shops in this entire town."

Willy swallowed as he looked at the shop that she was pointing to. After several seconds, he looked at her, half expecting her to be joking. "A used clothing store?" He asked, his lip somehow curling into a very cute, but rather irresistible, pout. "I think I prefer the boutique."

"You wimp," she giggled. "Come on, if we're going to rough it, then I have to have clothes that depict the terrain."

"I am not a wimp," he grumbled.

That only made her laughter increase until affectionately, she rested her hand on his shoulder. "You know I was just kidding, William."

"I think I prefer 'wimp'," he sighed.

Tamara took a deep breath. "I don't understand, Bill said…"

"…I know what he said, but perhaps we should dispense with names entirely until we get back," he said. "I just don't like being called 'William'."

"But that's your real name, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes it is, but it is also the same name my father used to call me when he was angry. If memory serves, that was rather frequent, too. I suppose ever since that time in my life, I've tried to avoid it," he said.

"I didn't know," she said, her voice cracking unconsciously. "I'm sorry."

He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "That's alright, my dear, just don't call me that again, not even if you get mad at me, agreed?"

She nodded. "Agreed."

Willy nodded and glanced over at the small shop that she was steering him towards. "So, you're really going to take me into that…what's it called again?"

"It's a thrift store," she said. "I can get everything I need here."

Willy's eyes unconsciously rolled, but he allowed her to lead him towards the door leading inside.

As soon as they had entered, she went over to the counter and offered the balding man, who stood behind it, a cordial smile. "Hello Mr. Hudson."

Raising his head, the man broke into a broad smile. "Tamara, how are you, darling?" He asked. "I haven't seen you around here in ages. In fact, your roommate was in here several days ago and she said that you had disappeared."

"What else did she say?" She asked.

"Not very much, but the irony was that she saw the newspaper, snatched it away, and stormed out of here as though she had been bitten by something," he said bluntly. "I don't generally read the society pages, but now that I think about it, the picture looked remotely like the two of you." He cast a glance towards Willy and arched an eyebrow. "Your new beau?"

"Something like that," she said.

"So what happened that brought all this on?" He asked. "I don't mean that, but I'm just pondering how you managed to get along.

"I'm not really sure," she mused. "Belinda sort of freaked out, and now I'm sort of in need of everything."

"Everything?" He asked.

"Yes, clothes, shoes, the whole nine yards," she said.

"Do you want to enlighten me on what specifically happened?" He asked.

"It's a really long story," she said. "But, since we're going back to Somerdale, I'll have a chance to sit down and tell my parents about it. The thing is, it's not really something I want to go into great detail about right now."

"I understand," he said smiling, but instead of pressing the issue, he rubbed his hands together before continuing. "As luck would have, the Georgetown Department Store just sent over a whole bunch of unsold stuff that I haven't even unpacked it yet," he said. "You're a size 36, right?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Well then let me go get them and you and your friend can start having a look around the other things you might need," he said. "There is loads of new stuff, so just take your time."

"Thanks," she said as she grabbed a plastic hand-held basket. Backing away from the counter, she went over to one of the racks. Willy followed her over to the first rack and started moving the clothing around. He watched as mismatched shirts, pants, and skirts touched her fingers, some ending up in the basket, while others went ignored.

"Tamara?" Willy eventually spoke her name. "You know the man who runs this place?"

"Yes, his name is Steven Hudson?" She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "His son and daughter-in-law are my parents' next door neighbors. Before I moved here, they told me that he had the shop and that I should stop in. I had never met him before, but from the first time I came in, we sort of hit it off, and now I'm in here every two or three days to see what all he's got. I guess he figured that it was rather strange for me to go more than four days without coming by."

"I suppose one would if they have grown accustomed to seeing you there on a daily basis," Willy remarked.

"Anyway, he's always gone out of his way to help me find the things that I needed. Sometimes, he would give me discounts because he knows that money has been tight."

"That's very nice of him," he offered.

"I know that to you it probably seems strange that I actually wear other people's old discards, but I learned a long time ago that I need to sometimes make concessions," she said.

"I don't make concessions, I just make confections," he smiled impishly.

"You know what I mean," she scolded him somewhat impatiently. After several seconds had passed, her next question emerged and she looked at him. "Don't you?"

Willy nodded as a soft chuckle emerged. "Yes, Tamara, I know," he said softly. He went over to where she was standing and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I was just teasing you."

She nodded, but before she could so much as respond, the door to the shop suddenly opened and much to their surprise and horror, Belinda came into the shop.

"Oh my God, what's she doing here?" Tamara whispered under her breath. "She never used to come in here. She always said that thrift stores were tacky and tasteless."

Willy shook his head but lowered the brim of his cap to conceal his face.

Seconds later, the other woman started walking in their direction. As he continued to stare at Tamara, he could instinctively tell that she was now biting down on her lower lip.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, the chocolatier reached over and took her hand in his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, the couple waited for the inevitable to happen.


	56. Chapter 55: Confrontations & Sandwiches

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment. First my sincerest apologies for leaving you guys hanging like this. Reviews or no reviews, my life has been insane and I really had a great many things to tend to. I did not anticipate waiting for almost a week to get this part up. So, my apologies for that. Here's hoping that you continue to enjoy this, and Stealth Phoenix and Ya Ya, thanks for telling me it straight that that was an evil cliff hanger. I will try not to keep you waiting too terribly long for the next installment._

_Enjoy, but please review; I'd like to know if more than two people are actually reading this literary siege, so let me know. Even one sentence reviews are appreciated cause I at least know you're there. So here's a shout out to you story lurkers._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**Chapter 55: Confrontations and Sandwiches**

With her face concealed by the basket as well as the clothing, Tamara and Willy made their way to the other side of the clothing rack. Although one of her hands was securely in Willy's hold, her other fist clenched the basket even tighter as a wave of anger washed over her. She watched through half closed eyes as Belinda's gaze locked on them and recognition dawned on her.

"Tamara, is that you?" She spoke, her voice emerging in a high pitched phony manner. Upon hearing it, both the younger blonde headed woman and the famous confectioner unconsciously cringed.

Despite his unwillingness to give himself away, he regarded Belinda through skeptical blue eyes, which were conveniently concealed by the sunglasses.

For her part, Tamara's hold on Willy's hand tightened as she obscured the contact beneath the folds of the various dresses that were hanging from the neighboring rack. "What do you want?" She asked, all the while trying to keep her voice even.

Willy could feel that Tamara's hand had started to sweat, but he said nothing.

Here was the woman who had been stalking him and had destroyed Tamara's belongings, and yet he could not get the words out even if he wanted to. His vast vocabulary had suddenly faded into obscurity. He watched transfixed as the woman he loved regarded the demented stalker now standing on the other side of a round clothing rack.

"What do I want?" Belinda repeated these words, her voice etched in a dramatic and phony whine. "Tamara, I've been so worried."

"Worried?" Tamara parroted, the distrust in her voice was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"Yes, you disappeared," she said as she cast a wary and disapproving glance in Willy's direction. "Who are you?"

"I'm her friend," Willy said honestly. "And she didn't disappear, she was with me."

"Are you her boyfriend?" She asked.

"You could say that," he said as he tugged gently on Tamara's arm as though wanting to position himself between the two women.

Tamara said nothing further, instead, she waited for Belinda to say something. At the very same instant, she allowed the basket that was in her hand to slip from her grip and land on the floor with a loud thud.

This brought the older man out of the back of the shop and into the front room. Upon seeing Belinda in his shop, he remained where he was standing behind the counter. It seemed clear to every single one of them that he knew that something serious was happening. He was also bound and determined to not leave Tamara and Willy alone with Belinda.

Wordlessly, he watched as the confrontation unfolded.

For her part, Belinda looked back over at Tamara. "Where'd you go?"

Tamara shifted her attention so as to look at the blouses that were hanging on the nearest rack instead of at Belinda. As she shifted the articles of clothing nervously around, the scent of mothballs emanated some of them, thus giving off a strange odor throughout the shop. Inhaling slowly, she addressed her former roommate. "That's none of your business, but if you must know, I've been staying with my friend."

"Your _friend_?" Belinda parroted, but the cadence made Tamara abruptly turn around and regard the older woman through mocking green eyes.

"Yeah, you know, a person I actually like," she responded before she could stop herself.

"I'm your friend," Belinda said. The irony in those words almost made Willy choke. As he tried to catch his breath, Tamara squeezed his hand tightly and by some miracle, he was able to keep his amusement at bay.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the two women and noticed that Tamara was adamantly shaking her head. "You are _not _my friend, you probably never were," she said sarcastically. Taking a deep breath, she began to speak, her words literally able to cut through solid concrete. "A friend is a person who treats you with respect. A friend doesn't go and destroy all of my belongings just for the hell of it. A friend doesn't call my ex-boyfriend and tells him where I am." She raised her head and looked at the other woman, her eyes now filled with rage.

"What are you talking about?" Belinda asked.

"What am I talking about?" Tamara shot back, her voice etched in hate. "I'm talking about Neil Kirkwood. I'm talking about the man who stalked me all over Somerdale until I was forced to move here just to get away from him."

"But, I called him as a surprise for you," she said innocently.

"A surprise?" Tamara paused dramatically as the sarcasm emerged from between her lips. Ironically, she began to laugh, her voice sounding strange, not only to her, but also to Willy. The chocolatier arched his eyebrows, but remained silent as the laughter faded.

"I thought you'd be happy to see your boyfriend. You looked so happy in the picture," Belinda said in a well practiced cadence.

"Happy?" She snapped as she turned and looked at Willy. "She thought I was happy with him. Happy with a man whose jealousy caused me to lose my job as well as my friends and family. I lost three months of my life because of him." Pausing, she turned and looked back at Belinda. "Who are you trying to manipulate this time? Because it certainly is not working with me."

"Gosh Tamara, I really didn't know," Belinda said, her well practiced lie rolling off her tongue as though she was running for public office.

"Was that before or after you went and trashed my room?" Tamara asked bluntly. "You think I don't know what you did? Do you think I am totally stupid about what happened? I had gone back to the apartment only yesterday when you weren't there and I saw what you did. I saw my shadow box…the mirror…and the clothes. You tell me you are my friend, but if you are, then what the hell happened to my stuff? Where is the picture of my family, Belinda?"

"I don't know," She responded meekly.

"I just bet you don't," Tamara snapped. "I can guess what happened, you probably saw a picture of the back of two people's heads in a tabloid newspaper and decided to go on a one person rampage because you got jealous. Well, let me tell you something. You reached a bunch of conclusions that only seem to come straight out of bad espionage films."

"Tamara, I don't know what came over me…" she began.

"…Just like you didn't know what came over you when you called Neil Kirkwood. Face it, you didn't really give a rat's ass about me, and you certainly didn't seem to care that you turned my life upside down with all of this. Just admit it, nothing else matters as long as your sick and twisted fantasies came true. You're no better than Neil, and you're most definitely not my friend," As she spoke tears streamed down her face. "Now, if you don't mind, I still have some shopping to do. I do have to go and replace all the things that you ruined."

With that, she turned away and began to move the clothes about on the rack. Her anger was apparent as the sounds of the hangers crashing together could be heard.

Willy watched this exchange in silence until the older woman started to back slowly in the direction of the front door. Tamara doesn't deserve this, he thought sadly, and yet through it all, she was trying with all her might to remain strong.

As soon as the chimes jingled and Belinda was gone, Tamara released a pent up sigh as she turned and looked at Willy.

For his part, the chocolatier could somehow tell that she was trying with all her might to keep from crying. Instead of allowing her to bottle up her feelings, he inched his way closer to her and pulled her against the firmness of his chest. "It's alright," he whispered gently.

As if on command, her head came to rest on his shoulder and she began to sob softly. Seconds later, her broken words filled the confines of the now empty shop. "I d-didn't know s-she would come in here," she whimpered.

Willy nodded as he wrapped her tightly in his arms. "I know," he whispered as Mr. Hudson came from behind the counter and walked over to them.

"Is she alright?" He asked as he rested his aged hand on Tamara's shoulder.

"I think she's going to be alright," Willy began, his hand still stroking her hair. "The adrenaline rush has sadly ended."

"Is that why you're looking to get a new wardrobe?" Steven asked.

Tamara nodded. "S-she thought that I was…"

"…She thought that Tamara was involved with someone she was in love with," Willy finished, with obvious distaste in his mouth.

"Let me guess, Willy Wonka," Steven said with a nod of his head. When Willy turned to face him, the man continued. "On the day when that picture of Mr. Wonka and the young lady appeared in the paper, Belinda had come into the shop. While she was here, she saw the picture, snatched it up, and left in an outrage. It would seem to me that she is now taking her anger about that out on you, Tamara."

When the young woman wearily nodded, the older man motioned towards the back of the store. "I think you both need to sit down and take a break from this."

"But, I wasn't finished," She offered weakly.

He nodded but motioned towards the large bundle that was now lying on the counter. "I sort of figured that. So, I already have your undergarments over there, did you want the stuff in the basket."

"I-I haven't tried any of it on yet," she said softly.

"Well then, take it home and try it on there. Whatever doesn't fit, you can bring back here for a refund. You know I trust you, Tamara," he said smiling. "Now, does that sound like a workable solution to you?"

She nodded. "But, Mr. Hudson, I wasn't finished and it's nearly lunchtime. You usually close the shop for the hour, and we don't want to keep you from your schedule."

Steven consulted his watch. "Well, then, I'll tell you what, you and your friend stay and keep looking around. I'll close up for lunch, run down the street to the deli, and grab us all something to eat. Just tell me what you'd like and I'll get it for you. Sound good?"

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Now then, what kind of sandwich do you kids want?" He asked.

"I like turkey, salami, and cheese," Willy said and started to dig in his pocket for some money.

Steven held up his hand in negation. "We'll manage that later, son."

Willy nodded and looked at Tamara. "What did you want to eat?"

"After what happened, I don't know if I have much of an appetite," she whispered.

"You've got to eat something, how about turkey?" He asked.

She nodded as he looked at Mr. Hudson. "Could you get Tamara a turkey breast sandwich, and make sure there is no peppers on or near it?"

Steven nodded, but instead of immediately leaving, he rested his hand on Tamara's shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright now. Belinda can't get back in here, and you have all the time you need." He looked at Willy. "Keep an eye on her, she's really in need of her friends right now, and after what happened with that woman just now, I am wont to say that she has adequate cause to be worried and afraid."

With that, he went over and locked the front door before retreating to the back door.

* * *

Once he was gone, Tamara looked at the chocolatier. "Willy, I honestly didn't know she was going to come in here."

"Nor did I," he said. "She didn't seem to recognize me, so maybe that's a good thing. If she thinks that some stranger in a baseball cap is your new boyfriend, then she will perhaps not do anything else to hurt you."

"What does it matter?" She whispered. "She already destroyed everything in my room."

"She didn't destroy you, and it would be wise for us to keep it that way. Don't you think?" He asked softly. "Listen, if what happened in here even closely parallels what happened with Neil the other day, then I think that your argument about being a coward is completely unjustified." He smiled down at her. "You were very brave, and for what it's worth, you protected me without even knowing that that was what you were doing."

"I told you I would," she smiled weakly.

"Yes, you did," he smiled. "Perhaps now, we ought to finish looking for the things you're going to need. Mr. Hudson will be returning soon with the food and then we have to make one more stop before we go back to the factory."

"Where to?" She asked.

"That, my dear, is a surprise," he said.

Tamara looked at him. "Is it better than a Marshmallow Round?" She asked softly.

"I think so," he smiled coyly. With that, they started rummaging around the racks for more clothes in Tamara's size. As they found the things that she would need, they were added to the basket. As Willy tossed the fourth purple colored item into it, she raised her head.

"You do like purple, don't you?" She asked, and once the chocolatier nodded, they could both hear the back door of the shop opening and Mr. Hudson returning to the main room.

"I have everything we need, now you two come on, and then afterwards, we'll see if there is anything in your size left in the shop," he chuckled as the two of them joined him in the back room.

Three can drinks were placed on the table as well as several Wonka bars. It seemed as though, not only had Mr. Hudson gotten the sandwiches, he had also made sure that there were enough drinks as well as dessert for him and his guests.

Without thinking, as soon as he sat down, Willy reached for one of the candy bars, but before he could grab it, Mr. Hudson shook his head firmly and smiled. "First the sandwich, then the dessert…My goodness, kids today."

Tamara began to giggle as the chocolatier retracted his hand. Blushing slightly, he accepted a large sandwich and began unwrapping it.


	57. Chapter 56: Willy's Surprise

_Hello and welcome to the next installment. After writing a very serious chapter with Belinda, I decided to add something a bit light and funny, that will make Willy actually enjoy the day of shopping. This part was inspired by the film 'Pretty Woman', so have to give a shout out in that regard. It was fun to write._

_This will probably be my last update before next Monday. We're leaving town on Wednesday to go visit family, so I won't have internet access until we get back._

_Thanks to my reviewers and please keep me updated on how this is shaping up. I really want to know what people reading think. And it does take a lot more time to write this stuff than it does to review it so try and keep that in mind._

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter 56: Willy's Surprise**

After about half an hour of eating lunch and exchanging stories, Mr. Hudson stood up and went out into the shop to retrieve the basket full of clothing. He then grabbed the bundle from off the counter and came into the back room where the two of them were seated.

Willy had grabbed a candy bar and was peeling back the wrapping paper while Tamara sat taking sips from the canned drink.

"Now then, let's see what we have here," he said as he grabbed a calculator from off a nearby counter and began tapping in numbers as he picked up and discarded the items. Shirts, pants, skirts, and even a dress were figured in and when he was finished, he came over and wordlessly handed the small calculator to her.

She nodded and handed the object back over to him before digging in her pocket and pulling out several bills. Counting them out, she handed them to him. Once he had accepted the money, he stuffed it into his pocket and then started picking up the remains of their lunch.

Standing up, Tamara began to fold the clothes while the shopkeeper went and retrieved several plastic bags for all the clothing. As soon as everything was inside the bags, he looked at her. "Make sure you launder everything before wearing the clothes. As always the underwear is new, and unused, so that should be alright for you to start wearing," he said.

"Thanks for everything Mr. Hudson," she said.

"Thank you both for joining me for lunch," he said and looked at Willy. "You take good care of her, young man."

"I will," Willy said, but watched as the older man unlocked the door and the two of them left the shop.

Once they were gone, Steven Hudson allowed himself to begin to chuckle. "Imagine little Tamara Jenkins on the arm of a world famous confectioner. It's hard to believe that Willy Wonka himself was in my shop trying to act like a normal person. That is indeed one surprise that Maggie will never believe in a million years. I didn't believe it myself and I was here and saw it." A smile replaced his initial laughter. "What a cute couple they make…"

Stepping back into the break and storage room of the shop, he smiled when he noticed that wrapped in one of the candy bars was a small pile of change as well as a handwritten note. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Hudson," the note read. At the bottom two loopy W's were written, thus confirming Steven's initial supposition about his remarkable guest.

Just like everyone kept telling me, Willy Wonka is really a nice young man, he thought as he scooped up the change and returned to the front of the shop to put it into the register.

Once the money from Willy and Tamara had been deposited, the shop owner rubbed his hands together and returned to the back of the room. Taking the note carefully, he folded it in half and slid it into the pocket of his shirt.

Maggie would have believe me now, he thought with a smug smile. Beginning to whistle, he finished cleaning off the table before returning to the front of the shop in order to open for the afternoon clientele.

* * *

Outside on the street, Tamara and Willy walked somewhat more hesitantly back in the direction of the factory. Neither of them spoke until they reached the boutique where the purple colored dress hung.

Instead of going to another shop and looking for another dress, it seemed as though after their confrontation with Belinda, the motivation was lost. Tamara seemed determined to avoid the shop, but Willy stopped and looked in through the window at the dress as it hung there. His expression seemed completely unreadable.

Before he could so much as utter a word, a voice suddenly filled their ears.

"Hey!" The single word emerged and they turned around to see a young girl rushing towards them. "Yo! Bill's friends!" She called out as she came closer and they immediately recognized her as Charlie's friend, Meagan Lovejoy.

Catching up to them, she smiled sheepishly at Willy. "Sorry, I didn't know how to call out to you without drawing unnecessary attention." She said. "Of course, that's probably the first and last time I will ever use the expression, 'yo!'."

"How are you doing, Meagan?" Willy asked.

"Good, after you left the other day, Bill gave me a job at the shop and he said that after a week if he's satisfied with my work, then he would hire me to work the after-school rush. I mean; that is if you don't mind." She looked hesitantly at Tamara.

"No, I don't, and Bill did tell me that he had asked you. I think it's great," Tamara said.

The teenager smiled and nodded. "Then it works out. I guess I was just sort of worried that I would be taking your job away from you or something."

"You have nothing to worry about," Tamara said.

"So, what are you doing in this part of town?" Willy asked, thus changing the subject. He motioned towards the exclusive looking boutique as his next question emerged. "Shopping?"

Meagan curled her lip, but looked at him through shining eyes. "Not hardly. The people here are snobs, they look down at anyone who doesn't drink tea from a silver service."

"Do you want to have some fun with them?" Willy asked, a coy smirk now shadowing his face. He was glad they had run into the teenager, she seemed to enjoy the same sorts of adventures as he did.

"I'm game," she said enthusiastically. "What have you got in mind?"

"Well," he looked at Tamara, his eyes intent. "I wanted to give Tamara that dress in the window and I can't unless she approves. Would you help me convince her that it would be fun and to go in there an annoy them would not reap pending doom?"

Meagan nudged Tamara, her eyes shadowed with approval. "Sure. Look, Tamara, the man's got great taste. That dress is really gorgeous."

"Maybe," Tamara mused, but looked at Meagan, her expression laced with concern. "The thing is, I'm not really used to accepting such extravagant gifts."

"Why not?" Meagan asked. "If he's your boyfriend, then let him do something nice for you." She paused. "He's your boyfriend, isn't he?"

Tamara blushed, but Willy nodded with a smirk. When his eyes met hers, then she could see that he was doing his best to implore her with his best puppy eyed look.

"Pretty please with gobstoppers on top, Tamara. I know that you said that it's enough to feed a third world village, but I really want to do this for you," he pleaded while Meagan covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. "I'll even send a generous donation to a third world village if that will convince you of my sincerity."

"You can't argue that logic," Meagan said between giggles.

After several seconds, Tamara eventually, but rather reluctantly, nodded and felt herself being pulled towards the glass door that led into the boutique.

So with all of their thrift store bundles, and clad in jeans and flannel shirts, the man, woman, and teenager barreled into the shop. As they came in, Willy looked at Meagan, the smirk still shadowing his face as he leaned over and whispered something to her. She nodded and grabbed the bundles from Tamara and watched as the couple approached the woman at the counter.

For her part, the woman eyed the couple and the teenage girl with unhidden disdain. "May I help you?" She asked curtly. It was clear that she had every intention of calling the police about the group of ruffians that had just entered her shop.

Calmly, Willy approached and smiled. "Yes, I think you can," he said. "Do you have a purple colored dress like the one in the window in size 36?"

"I believe we do, is your lady friend interested in it?" She asked, first looking at Meagan, who calmly shook her head. Her judgmental gaze then came to rest on Tamara. "Perhaps I might interest you in a fitting?"

Tamara found her voice, but offered a cordial nod. "Yes, thank you."

The woman disappeared in the back as Tamara looked at Willy. "I don't think they're used to people like us coming in here."

"Oh they eventually will," he smirked and pointed. "It would seem they have similar taste in candy as you do." On the counter rested a half-eaten Marshmallow Round.

"But, they don't know who you are," she whispered. "If only they did."

"If they did then we'd not have any fun," he said. "But, rest assured, by the time we leave this shop, they will know. Meagan and I have devised a plan." He cast a glance towards the teenager who was biting on her upper lip, thus forcing herself to not to start laughing. "Now, regardless of whether or not you get that dress, they will have to recognize that they should not judge others by their appearances," he said smiling. "Not every person is who they seem."

"That was the reason I didn't want to come in here in the first place," she confessed.

"It wasn't the dress that turned you away, it was the atmosphere. Snobbery and kindness don't mix, is that it?" He asked. "Well, maybe this is a lesson that they will not soon forget."

"Maybe," she whispered.

"So that's why you felt comfortable at Mr. Hudson's shop," he mused. "You could confront Belinda there, but in a place like this, you wouldn't be able to."

She shook her head. "It's silly, isn't it."

"No," he responded sincerely as the woman came out with the dress.

"Is this the dress you mean?" She asked Willy.

"That's it," he said. "Go see if it fits, I'll wait here for you." As an afterthought, he looked at Meagan. "Maybe it would make Tamara feel a bit more comfortable if you go with her."

"Alright," Meagan nodded as she and the two women disappeared into the fitting room.

Once they were gone, Willy looked down at the counter where the Marshmallow Round lay. Smiling he raised his head and regarded the remaining saleswoman who was still watching him like a hawk.

"Is this yours?" He asked.

"No, it's my colleague's, I don't eat much chocolate," she said.

"Oh I see." He smiled as he shifted his attention to another part of the shop where the shoes were smartly displayed. "So, if the dress does fit, she's going to want some shoes that would go with it. Do you have something here that would match the dress?"

"I didn't want say something in front of the lady and the child, but I am not sure if our prices are in your range, Sir," she said arrogantly.

"My dear lady," Willy answered with about as much condescension as she had used in her own statement. "You must never judge a candy bar by the wrapping papers, unless, of course, it's a Slugworth bar and then you can guess that it will generally taste bad," he smirked. "Now, I did not inquire about shoes as a rationale for you to be patronizing. Would you please be so kind as to show me what you have?"

The woman nodded and led him over to the shelves where the shoes were displayed.

"These are generally the shoes that people buy to wear with the dress," she said. "What size does your lady friend have?"

My guess is a 37 thereabouts," he said as he looked at the matching purple colored shoes. As his gaze drifted to the price tag, he internally groaned. Good heavens, Tamara was right about the prices here. My first car cost about the same as these shoes do, he thought with wry smile.

Seconds later, Tamara came out of the dressing room, the woman carrying the dress came behind her with the intention of putting it back on the rack. She got halfway there and stopped when Willy turned away from the shoes and looked at Meagan. "Did it fit?"

Meagan nodded. "She looked like a princess in it."

"You're exaggerating," Tamara smiled shyly. "But, it did fit."

"Alright, then we'll take the dress, but you're going to need shoes, so tell the lady here what size, and let Meagan and me take care of the rest of this," he gave her one of his quirky smiles as Meagan started walking over to the check out stand to join him.

"What are you two up to?" Tamara could not help but ask. Her thoughts were no longer on shoes. She was curious as to what Willy and Meagan were now plotting.

"Just wait and see," he said coyly, but turned back to face the woman at the counter as Meagan reached where he was standing. Now, the real fun was about to begin. He carefully removed the baseball cap, fluffed up his hair, and stuffed the cap in the back pocket of his jeans. Next he dug in the pocket of his jacket in order to pulled out his wallet.

"This joke has indeed gone far enough," the woman who had taken Tamara into the dressing room started speaking.

"What do you mean?" Meagan asked, but then turned to Willy. "I don't understand, Mr. Wonka, what does she mean about a joke? I never even heard the punch-line."

"Mr. Wonka?" The woman's face suddenly lost its color.

Meagan looked at her. "Don't you even recognize him?" She asked, but looked at Willy. "I thought everyone here knew you?"

"I guess not everyone does," Willy said as he looked at the woman, a half joking, half serious smile remaining. "I can assure you that this is no joke, dear lady." With dignity, he pulled a credit card as well as his identification out of his wallet and placed them on the counter. "Now, I wish to charge the items to this card. You do take credit cards don't you?"

The woman picked up the card and her jaw dropped as she read the name on it. "William Willoughby Wonka?" she read the name aloud and shook her head as her eyes took in the gold color of the card.

"If you wish to contact the bank asking for verification, ask for Thomas Kilgore," Willy said with a sly smile. "He will verify that I am the rightful owner of the card."

The woman said nothing, instead she wordlessly rang up the purchases.


	58. Chapter 57: Truffles and Trust

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. Please forgive my not having written anything these past days. This has been a very trying time for me, and I am hopeful that I can get this, as well as other stories updated in a more timely manner._

_For now, I hope that you enjoy the latest installment here. I really appreciate the reviews that you kind folks have been leaving for me. Here's hoping that you will enjoy this latest bit._

_Happy reading._

_Yva J._

* * *

**Chapter 57: Truffles and Trust**

Ten minutes later, they left the boutique and stepped out into the afternoon sun. Meagan was holding her upper lip with her teeth and trying to keep the laughter at bay. By the time they were outside, as well as out of the hearing range of the snobby saleswomen, she let herself loose. "Oh my God, that was so funny," she managed to speak between giggles.

Willy nodded as he put the sunglasses on. The cap was once more affixed to his head and the various packages and boxes were now divided between him and Tamara. "It was," he offered as Meagan turned and looked at Tamara.

"Did you see the look on her face when she read the name on the credit card? She looked as though she was going to hurl or something…" her voice trailed off and she looked at Willy apologetically. "…Sorry."

"No reason, you were right, she did look rather green in the face," He said smirking.

"That was so much fun," Meagan said happily. "Wait until I tell Charlie about it…" Her voice trailed off as she began to look around where they were standing, her gaze darting about until she finally looked at Willy. "Do you know what time is it?" She asked.

Willy checked his watch. "A quarter to three, why?"

"Oh man, I have to go," Meagan grumbled. "Charlie said that we should meet this afternoon at the library to work on our Chemistry project. If I'm late, he's going to have a fit. I just hope we can figure out a project idea that Mr. Turkentide will at least approve of."

"Well, the library's not too far away," Tamara offered. "I don't figure it to be more than ten minutes walk from here."

The teenager nodded. "Well then, I guess I should get going. Thanks for the interesting time, you guys."

With that, the teenager walked away and Willy watched her go. "She seems to be doing much better than when we saw her at Bill's."

Tamara nodded. "I could tell from the onset that she really does look up to you, though," she smiled weakly.

"She's a nice girl," he affirmed, "but I wish she would see me as a friend, and not merely as someone to 'look up to'."

"Then perhaps you ought to tell her so," she said as she looked down at her packages and sighed. "I should have asked Mr. Hudson if he had tennis shoes. I don't have any and my hiking boots are at my parents' house."

"If you would like, we can do some more shopping tomorrow morning," Willy suggested. "For now, I am not so sure I can carry anything else. My arms are starting to feel rather like taffy. Forgive me, but I'm afraid that I haven't mastered the art of shopping just yet. This was my first time."

She looked at him as they stopped at an intersection. "You did very well though," she said. "I mean; the dress is really beautiful. I don't know what more I could say about it. It was very nice of you."

Willy smiled. "I'm sure that you will look quite lovely in it and I do look forward to seeing you with it on tonight when we have dinner together," he said meaningfully. "But do you know what?"

"What?"

"Aside from running into Belinda, I really had fun today, and that finale at the boutique," he smirked. "I never knew that I could go out and have such a great time with people like those ladies in there."

"I only hope our camping trip will exceed your expectations," she said as they continued down the street towards the factory.

When they reached the open area just in front of the factory, the first thing that Willy noticed was that the area just in front of the gate was empty. He pulled a key from his pocket but looked at her. "We should probably use the south gate entrance to take all the stuff inside. It is…"

His voice trailed off and he stopped and stared at the front gate of the factory.

"…Oh du meine gute," he whispered under his breath in German. _(Oh my goodness)_

At that moment, they reached the gate and spotted white colored dress flapping in the breeze. Covering the top, up near the breast area of it was splattered with a bright red colored substance that resembled blood.

Tamara turned and looked at Willy, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't get it."

"I don't either, come on I'll have someone come out and remove it. Right now, we should hurry up and get inside." With a final glance over his shoulder, he started to hurry her down the sidewalk and around the corner from where the dress still hung on the gate.

As soon as they had reached the side gate, Willy cast another quick glance over his shoulder to insure they were alone. Realizing this, he extracted his key and opened the gate before ushering her inside. Closing the gate firmly behind them, he locked it and led her across the courtyard to the nearest factory entrance.

Once they had come inside and the door had closed behind them, Tamara allowed the parcels and bags to fall from her arms and land on the floor. "She just keeps coming back," she whispered. "Maybe Bill was right, maybe the only safe place for us is here."

"Don't say that, Tamara," Willy said. "I know that it may seem that way at times, but I couldn't bear to think of someone with as much life in them as you being cooped up. That's one of the things you have taught me."

"But why is this happening? I mean; this isn't just about her stalking you, it's her wanting me dead. When we left this morning my dress wasn't hanging there and then we ran into her at the thrift store. I just don't understand," Tamara whispered. "How could she know that we've fallen in love?"

"She doesn't know," he said softly. "She's just looking for excuses to terrorize you and me and anyone else she perceives to stand in the way of getting what she wants."

"What are we going to do?" She asked.

"We're going to get your things moved to either your room or my room. Right now, it's your choice. Do you want to go back to the Rainbow Light room, or should we just take these things to my suite?" he asked.

Tamara lowered her head. She did not know what to say, and at this point, she feared sounding too forward asking him if she could stay with him. Although she had already spent a night in his room, she still wondered if it was alright for her to have her things there.

Willy looked at her. "Should we go to my room, Tamara?" He asked gently.

Instead of speaking, she nodded timidly.

"Alright then," he said as he summoned the Wonkavator. "Then tomorrow we can go camping."

"Tomorrow?" She whispered.

"Yes, I think what we both need is to get away, maybe see your family and know that someone besides Bill, Mr. Hudson, and me are with you. Now that Neil is gone, it will be safe for you to go."

"Just don't send me away," she whispered, her plea tugging at his heartstrings.

He shook his head, "I won't, Tamara, not ever."

Seconds later the Wonkavator arrived and Willy grabbed all the parcels and put them inside before reaching for her hand. Once he held it, he guided her inside. "It's not far, try not to worry," he whispered as he suppressed the button and within seconds, they had reached the stop and the doors opened once again. Walking the length of the now familiar corridor, he opened the door and they stepped out into the now familiar living area.

Before either of them could so much as utter another sound, the shrill sounds of a siren replaced the solitude of the room. Wordlessly, Tamara covered her ears with both hands, but watched as Willy rushed over to the wall, opened a small, but matching, mahogany door, and pressed a large red colored button. A resounding click as well as the sound fading could be heard throughout the room and he turned and looked at her, his expression grave.

"There's an intruder on the grounds," he said softly, his voice laced with urgency.

Tamara's mind was reeling as she looked over at him, with panic written all over her face. "It must be Belinda…"

"…We don't know that yet, but my workers are going to find out."

"Workers?" She asked.

"Yes, when we spoke yesterday about the police I told you about a secret, and my workers are the secret. When all this is over, I will introduce them to you, but for now I need to go and see what has happened. It could be something as simple as a cat or dog losing their way and getting in through the courtyard," he said logically.

"Willy," she whispered his name after several moments. When he did not respond, she watched as turned towards the door with the intention of leaving. She wrapped her arms around him. "Please, don't leave, I'm frightened."

He stopped dead in his tracks upon feeling her hold tightening on him. He slowly turned around and faced her. "Everything's going to be alright, I have to find out what or who may have triggered the alarm system." She nodded, but started to follow him towards the door. "I want you to stay here," he instructed firmly.

"W-what are you going to do?" She asked.

"I've got to go and investigate what is happening," he repeated for a third time.

"But y-you can't go alone, w-what if it's Belinda?" She asked, her voice cracking as their shared assertion filled both of their ears.

"If it is, then it is high time I face her and tell her that I am not interested or flattered by her actions any longer. That dress at the front gate was the very last straw for me," he said. He then reached for her hands and once he captured them, he looked down at her, his gaze more intent than anything she had ever seen. "It's high time that I put an end to this once and for all."

"Then take me with you," she said softly, but was not surprised when he shook his head adamantly. In fact, his next words were half what she expected, but although she loved him, she was torn between being angry at his calm arrogance, and flattered by his chivalrous intentions.

"That would be insane and you know it," he said, his voice laced in matter-of-fact firmness. "I absolutely refuse to put you in harm's way again, Tamara. Especially not now, when I have already put you through enough anguish. This is my battle, I have to face it on my own. Will you at least trust me enough to let me do this?"

She lowered her head. "I'm scared that you won't come back," she confessed.

He reached over and took her hands in his, but his next words were much softer than what he had said before. "Maybe what happened is not Belinda, but instead it is a small animal that somehow managed to sneak in. That can happen. The last time it did, Charlie and I discovered that in one of the many heating ducts, a mother cat was nursing about half a dozen kittens. We let them stay for a time, but then had to call the humane society to come and pick up the litter. I was told that the kittens were adopted out rather quickly because of the notoriety of being born inside the factory." He smiled at the memory.

"What about the mother cat?" She asked.

He motioned towards one of the doorways and pointed. "Oh she's still here. Since she was a stray, I gave her a home and the name 'Truffles'," he smiled as a soft looking yellowish beige colored cat hesitantly came out of the neighboring room. Apparently, the lazy cat had been asleep and the siren had woken her and she was now coming out to see what was going on.

Tamara looked down at the cat and smiled as the cat's hazel eyes regarded them somewhat hesitantly. As soon as she had reached them, she brushed herself up against Tamara's legs and waited expectantly for the young woman to lean down give her some attention. As the young woman's fingers lightly touched the green colored collar, she looked at Willy.

"It would seem that Truffles is a bit on edge by these activities as well, she's usually very shy around strangers. That may explain why you haven't seen her since arriving," he said, his words breaking her out of her reverie. He took a deep breath but started to turn back towards the door. Before stepping through it, he looked at her. "Just stay here and keep an eye on her, please."

"But Willy," she objected as her attention diverted away from the cat.

He took a deep breath, but instead of immediately speaking, he returned to her side, and wrapped her in his embrace. As his eyes sought hers, he spoke, his voice etched in intensity. "Listen to me, Tamara, right here in this room is perhaps the safest place for you to be. Please, just trust me."

Tamara looked at the chocolatier. "I do trust you, but Willy, you can't always protect me." She looked up at him, her eyes imploring him to understand.

"Perhaps I cannot, but I can most certainly try," he said as he glanced down to where Truffles was still rubbing against Tamara's legs. "It would seem that she wants you to stay with her as well."

Offering a smirk, he released his hold before making his way back over towards the door. Just before reaching it, he stopped and turned around, his loving gaze locking with hers before he had stepped outside of the room and closed the door behind him.

What Willy did not expect was for her to slowly start to follow him out of the room and into the hallway. At a safe distance, Tamara strayed behind the chocolatier, but her heart was practically racing by the time he met another man. Coming closer, she immediately recognized that the man had orange colored skin and green hair.

So that was the big secret, she thought with a nervous smile. That was why he didn't want to get the police involved. It wasn't arrogance, or even her actions. He really did have people here who depended on him for their security and safety.

The thought of that unique man being discovered by society made Tamara's skin crawl. Suddenly she not only felt protective of Willy Wonka, but also the secrets he concealed in this place.

I'll never doubt Willy's goodness and generosity again, she thought, but still managed to follow the chocolatier and his loyal worker at a safe distance.

* * *

At the other end of the corridor, Willy was met by Naibouli. "Have you managed to deter the intruder?" He asked.

"Yes, Mr. Wonka, we have managed to close off the nerve centers of the factory as well as the corridor leading into our village as well as your and Charlie's private living quarters. This does not mean that the Rainbow Light Room is completely safe, but I just sent someone to secure the room. Hopefully, he has managed in a timely fashion and the young lady as well as her belongings will not be disturbed."

"Don't worry, I brought her to my suite. Aside from your village, it is probably the safest and most secure part of the entire factory."

"I understand, but would you mind explaining your strange choice of costume? Is there a masquerade ball happening that I was not informed about?" He asked.

"No, Tamara and I just returned from shopping is all," he said. "I was attempting to go out without being recognized."

"I see," the Oompa Loompa said.

"Naibouli, have you been able to determine who or what specifically had managed to get inside?" Willy asked.

"As of now, no, but we have inferred how they managed. The lock that leads in from the old building on the northernmost side seemed to have allowed the intruder in. We have noticed that there has been someone trying to breech security, and we fear that it was the same person who tried to get in the other night after Charlie returned from school. At any rate, we have managed to ascertain that the intruder merely picked the lock to from the side wall and gained access several seconds prior to the alarm sounding."

"Did the intruder hear the siren?" Willy asked.

"No, we have managed the energy checks that you have advised us of several days ago," Naibouli said. "We have, furthermore set up a little welcome movie if the intruder is the woman who have been sending packages. I must respectfully beg your pardon for having filmed you and your young guest."

"You filmed us?" Willy asked skeptically.

"Not with the intention of harming you or your lady friend," the Oompa Loompa said softly. "We feared that if your friend was the woman with the packages, so we wanted to make certain that she knew that you meant her no harm."

Willy took a deep breath. "I'm not quite certain I follow your logic, Naibouli, but I suppose in time we'll see what you and your family have come up with." He took a deep breath before continuing. "One thing is clear, though. If the intruder used the entrance that Charlie often uses, then we may have to find another, more safer entrance for him to use."

Naibouli nodded. "Yes, but he is away right now, working with a classmate of his on a Chemistry assignment at the city's library."

"No, he's not, I heard through Shangri-La that he was due back at four," he said. "He had intended on helping us with a new idea in the Inventing Room."

Willy sighed. "It's nearly four now. So that means that the intruder might have followed him inside and is now loose in the corridors."

"Yes."

"I still don't understand, Naibouli, I thought we had upped security when the letters started coming in," he said. "How could there have been a breach and one as simple as picking a lock?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I cannot answer with complete certainty. Perhaps it is as the great spirit once said, the easiest solution is often overlooked," Naibouli said apologetically. "Just please reassure me that your lady guest is safe. Her name is Tamara, correct?"

"Yes, and right now, she's in my suite taking care of Truffles. I must admit that although I asked her to stay, I am not sure if she will. I did not wish to lock her in a room, as that would perhaps bring more harm to her than good. I merely hope that she will trust and know that I wish only to protect her."

"Understandable," the Oompa Loompa said with a casual nod of his head. "So what do you intend to do?"

Willy crossed his arms over his chest, but looked at his loyal worker. "If the intruder is, in fact, Belinda, I want no one to approach her. Least of all your people, Charlie or Tamara."

"What if she's got a gun?"

"At this point, I don't really care," Willy said. "It's about time I put an end to this charade once and for all."

With newfound determination, the chocolatier made his way down the hallway in the direction of the last place where the intruder had been sited. He was now unyielding about putting an end to this once and for all. His only hope was that Tamara would stay where she was and not put herself into any further danger.

Using Truffles had actually been a good idea, but sooner or later, he knew that Tamara would eventually discover that he had not been completely honest about his cat's distinctive personality.

Wordlessly, he removed the baseball cap that he wore on his head and allowed the object to drift onto the floor.

Looking over at Naibouli, he took a deep breath. "I think you should stay out of sight, my friend. It could be dangerous."

The Oompa Loompa nodded. "May the great spirits be with you, my friend."

Willy nodded but watched as his worker slowly walked away.

Sighing deeply, he started along the length of the hallway. Beneath the flannel of his shirt, he could feel his heartbeat practically racing as it hammered against the walls of his chest.


	59. Chapter 58: The Last Straw

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. Sorry it's taking me some time to get these updates up, but now for the biggest cliff hanger to date. Here's hoping that you will enjoy it. Thanks to Lysi Marie, Ya Ya and Stealth Phoenix for the reviews. Here's hoping you continue to enjoy this bit._

_A special thanks to Victory Starr who actually gave me the whole video idea for this chapter through her videos at You Tube, so kudos have to go out for that bit of inspiration._

_At any rate, happy reading, and please let me know how this is shaping up. Reviews are a good way to relieve cliff hangers. Mwah!_

* * *

**Chapter 58: The Last Straw**

This had definitely been a stroke of luck, Belinda thought as she managed to find her way into one of the perimeter corridors of the factory. Now all she would have to do was find Willy and see if she could win him over. All of this had actually been quite easy to figure out.

Ever since she had run into Tamara at the thrift store, it was clear to her that her roommate had not shown up there with Willy, but instead with some guy who, to her, resembled a hippie. Of course, it did not mean that Tamara was not sharing a rendezvous with the chocolatier, she just figured that the man in Tamara's company was simply not him.

She had planned to put the fear of God into Tamara, but of all the rotten luck, the old man had emerged from the back of the shop and foiled her intentions. . If he had not come out into the store when she had been there, then everything would have worked out fine.

With the chances of Belinda pulling the gun on Tamara completely dashed, she had returned to her previous plan with the white dress soaked in pomengranate juice and hanging it on the front gate. After all, the red soaked fabric looked as though it was bloodied and that was the effect that she was trying to get.

At any rate, Belinda Hutchinson was now far too scatterbrained to notice a difference or even give a care.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that perhaps sending a picture of her roommate to Willy Wonka had been a mistake. What if, after one look, the chocolatier would begin to feel compassion or concern for Tamara?

As her thoughts drifted back to the confrontation between her and her roommate at the thrift store, it soon became abundantly clear that she had dismissed Tamara's accusations as simply being spiteful and unjustified lies.

Very soon after reaching the front gate of the factory that afternoon, Belinda suddenly had spotted Charlie and that despicable classmate of his. It was the same teenager that had been at Bill's Candy Shop and the light went on in her head that this kid was somehow associated with everything that was going on.

A frown crossed her face, but trying to ignore that, she followed them towards the abandoned building.

Her steps had been slow and deliberate as she kept a safe distance behind the two kids. It looked as though Charlie was bringing the girl to the factory and this time, she managed to followed them undetected until she reached the door that would eventually grant her access to the inside of the famous factory. Once getting inside the abandoned building, the stalker soon realized that they had obviously not seen her trailing behind them.

The two teenagers were so deep in dialogue that they did not seem to care about what was going on around them. Even from a ten meter distance, they were not running away from her and this meant that they did were not anticipating her next move.

This was too good to be true, she thought for the second or third time since her arrival.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Belinda managed without so much as a problem to reach the door. Wordlessly, she pulled a hairpin from her pocket and crouched down so as to be eye-level with the various locks. She immediately set to work, all the while determined not to fall victim to more teenage trickery.

It had only taken a few minutes for her to jimmy the lock of the small inconspicuous door with the piece of metal. When it eventually clicked, a feeling of triumph washed over her as she pulled the door open before quietly inching her way inside.

The first thing she saw upon entering was what looked to be a long and curvy corridor. The walls were splashed with color as though she was at the exact location for a sit-in or demonstration of hippies and flower children. The colors seemed to wash over her in what could only be described as rainbows of light.

Instead of contemplating this any further, a smile abruptly spread its way across her face. I did it, she thought as she made her way along one of the many corridors. Little did she know, a siren in the other parts of the factory had sounded, thus notifying the inhabitants of her presence.

To Belinda, the fact that she managed to get inside was one of the most highly anticipated moments of her life. Of course, she was about to discover that this was simply not the case. She walked through the halls her eyes scanning the area until she reached a room with the name 'Rainbow Light' written across the top of the door.

Touching the doorknob, she turned it and realized that the room was open. She slipped quietly inside and allowed the door to fall closed behind her. Willy's workers had yet to reach the room, thus leaving it victim to her curiosity.

The first thing she noticed was the dream catcher that hung over the bed. This drew her closer and she found herself looking around the room, which like the corridor, was splashed with color and light. Seconds later, she noticed a Marshmallow Round wrapper on the nightstand next to the bed. The contents had been eaten and there was no trace of any other treats lying about.

Could this have been Tamara's room? She asked herself, but quickly, she disregarded those thoughts and she crossed the room only to see a pair of socks draped casually over the sofa's back. Next, she spotted a small, but familiar box that was now on the floor. The contents were visible from where she was standing, but for whatever reason, she did not further investigate nor did she find Tamara's safe or duffle bag on the floor along one side of the large sofa.

One thing was clear to her, this room, although once having been occupied, was now void of life.

Feeling bored, she made her way over to the door before once more stepping out into the corridor. Closing the door behind her, she continued to make her way down the hall, this time with more confidence.

Moments later, she rounded a corner and started to see that various shadows had started to dance along the wall. With each step she took, the lights dimmed until she was completely encased in darkness. There was nothing at all wrong with the darkness, she reassured herself, but it was now impossible for her to see much of anything. She was literally forced to remain locked in the long and scary corridor. She was not yet aware of the fact that she was being cut off from the internal sections of the factory.

As if by impulse, Belinda extended her arms out in front of her and started to move along the corridor. As soon as she could feel herself touching the walls, it became clear that she was trying unsuccessfully to navigate herself along the darkened hallway.

For whatever reason, although the area was rather scary, she was not afraid. Instead, this whole experience seemed to do nothing but excite her.

My William, she thought. He's the genius behind all of this, she thought as her steps slowed somewhat and she found herself reaching a doorway where suddenly, classical music suddenly came up. The further she walked, the louder it became.

Not caring or knowing much about it, Belinda continued to walk slowly until she reached one corridor's end and rounded her way into another. At that moment, she could suddenly hear the sounds of an old reel from an antique movie projector as it started running, the film beginning to slap about in rhythmic succession. As the music continued to play, she could suddenly see pictures moving along the wall as flashing beams of light. It was as though watching a black and white movie set during the early parts of the twentieth century.

The sounds of the reels continued to slap along as the images shifted to reveal an old fashioned wedding scene. A bride and groom were shown dancing a slow box step. Seeing this brought a slight smile to Belinda's face and she closed her eyes and imagined herself in a floor-length white wedding gown and dancing in the arms of Willy Wonka.

Abruptly, the photos shifted and the music stopped.

Opening her eyes, she realized that the sounds of static and a scratched vinyl record replaced everything that she had been seeing or hearing. Annoyed, she glanced around but instead of hearing the music continue or seeing the images she liked, what she heard was merely the sound of a needle being abruptly removed from the record.

Unconsciously, she cringed as the uncomfortable scratching sounds momentarily ensued. Amidst all of that chaos, a masculine voice suddenly filled her ears as the corridor was once more plunged into darkness.

"This is not the happy ending that you are going to have, Belinda," the words filled her ears as the sounds of the projector was being turned on. The images once again started moving across the walls. Interwoven in the old Victorian-aged film were present day photographs spliced into the scene. The photographs were various shots of Willy and Tamara together. The very first was the one that started Belinda's terror action, the paparazzi photograph of them beyond the walls of the factory.

Belinda sighed unhappily the moment she saw that particular shot, but instead of contemplating it further, she stared transfixed as the colors from the first photograph bled together to reveal Tamara's blonde head as it inched its way closer to Willy and the bit of chocolate was carefully removed from her hair.

Seconds later, the lights came up and she turned around to see that the man who had been at the thrift store with Tamara was now standing in the hallway staring at her. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes regarding her. He was no longer clad in the sunglasses and baseball cap. His hair seemed to be all over the place, and this gave away the fact that Belinda was now in the presence of Willy Wonka.

His face was neither consumed in anger or hatred, instead, he simply stood there looking at her through dispassionate blue eyes.

"It's very strange how a single photograph can be misconstrued, is it not?" He asked, his voice, like his overall stance, completely void of emotion. "You thought that Tamara Jenkins was involved with me, yet when I was helping my friend Bill out at his shop, you treated me like I was a peasant. You had no idea that I was the one you were sending all those packages too. Then you saw me again at the thrift store earlier today, and you still did not recognize me.

"It must really anger you to think that the one person you tried to impress was not overwhelmed in the slightest," he casually walked over to the wall, his hand coming to rest against the smooth surface. "I don't think that Tamara is going to mind this since she's in a safe place where you can no longer harm her."

Tapping lightly against the wall, the light once more went down and the images suddenly began to move. Instead of showing the picture from the bench, the images of him and Tamara began to move as though a movie was playing. He would ultimately have to explain to Tamara why his workers had taped them, but for now they were the most profound thing that he could possibly have to show to this particular woman.

Belinda watched as a sick Tamara rested her head against the shoulder of the chocolatier. No words emerged from the images on the wall, instead, what Belinda saw was the couple embrace after her nightmare had happened. She watched as Willy Wonka planted a gentle kiss to the lips of the other woman.

"You can't do that," she shouted. "I won't let you."

"Try and stop me," Willy said evenly as he started to walk slowly away from her. "Ironically, your roommate did try to get you to stop what you were doing. She tried to tell you that you will never attain another person's affections by stalking them. You will further never attain my love by damaging her belongings or telephoning people like Neil Kirkwood. Do you even know why it is Tamara Jenkins came to this town in the first place? Do you even care?"

"She wanted to win you over," Belinda said angrily.

"No, she wanted to escape from someone who had made her life a living hell. It was the very same sort of thing that you were doing to me. You deserve nothing more than to spend your life behind bars for what you have put me through. Now, if I have anything to say about it, that is where you will have to go," he said, his gaze filled with meaningful undertones.

"Everything I did, I did for you," Belinda began.

"You did nothing for me," he said evenly. "What you did was done _to_ me. It is not flattering and it's not loving. What you did was the furthest thing from love that exists in this world. It is something that stems from fear and is embodied in jealousy."

As he spoke, the old Victorian aged film began to run and she watched as a bride and groom danced around in the silence of the moment. "What those people share will never be between you and me, Belinda. I don't love you, I don't even hate you, I feel sorry for you. It must be a terrible life for someone to sit and live out their years trying to make someone happy, when they don't even know the first thing about making themselves happy."

Belinda looked at him. "But, William…"

"…And before you start with this silly charade, my name is not William, that is what my father used to call me when he was angry. My name is Willy, or Mr. Wonka, and in this case, I would strongly suggest that you address me with the latter, as I cannot stand the thought of you calling me by my first name like Tamara does."

"So you are with her!" Belinda seethed, her eyes suddenly clouding over.

Willy smiled and nodded. "Yes, we are together. It was through an ironic twist of fate that we found common ground. We found our strength together after you and Neil Kirkwood tried to bring harm to us. It was through that, that I found the courage to face this issue and tell you exactly what I think of your uncouth behavior. The truth is, I love her, she impresses me by not trying to impress me. She cares enough about me that instead of telling me of her fantasies, she writes me a note and says: 'I hope that you are well', and 'I have been thinking about you'. She never thought that she would come to the factory at all, but she did, and now she has the option of coming and going whenever she pleases."

"You can't be serious," Belinda managed to speak.

"I am serious and I can affirm to you with almost absolute certainty that she will not be returning to the apartment, nor will she be spending anymore time in your company," he said calmly. "You see, I noticed from the very start that she has a loving spirit. I see someone who is teaching me about the world outside, but who also has emanated courage and strength, which I lacked. Today, we are facing and overcoming all the things you have done, but, we are going through it together.

"I can well imagine that you hate my having found my fairy tale love in the arms of another, but what you don't yet know is that it was your actions that essentially brought us together in the first place. Perhaps, in a way I should be thanking you."

With a wicked smirk, Willy Wonka backed away from her and once again tapped on the wall. As the images began to move once again, Belinda was able to see that the story had started to once again play out. She watched her roommate tried, but failed at removing the balloons from the front gate. Then she watched as the drama unfolded and Willy reacted in the only way he could. She watched as his desperate actions had brought Tamara into the factory and the doors were closed firmly behind them.

Seconds later, the images shifted and Belinda watched as Willy nursed Tamara back to health with bullion and crackers. After several moments, the scene shifted yet again and she watched in horror as they sat on the edge of the bed and shared the Marshmallow Round with one another. Finally, the evening drew to a close as Willy gave Tamara a kiss.

Belinda watched in horror as Willy pointed to his cheek and Tamara leaned towards him only to feel him turn his head at the last second.

Willy watched the actions on the wall and the realization hit him that Tamara did care about him. She had wrapped her arms around him and remained in his embrace.

She really did like it, he thought with a smile, but before he could sink even further into his contemplations, Belinda's words shattered his moment.

"I'll kill her…" Belinda shouted as she dug her hand into the folds of her jacket and abruptly produced the gun.

"…No you will not," Willy shouted with equal intensity as he regarded the irate woman through equally hostile eyes. "If you want to even try, you'll have to kill me first," he said as he remained where he stood.

Contrary to the fact that she was waving a gun about, he remained standing where he was, his body now unmoving. Of course, he was frightened, she could have shot him at any given moment. But, for some reason, she did nothing except wave the gun about and scream at the top of her lungs.

"If I can't have you, no one can!"


	60. Chapter 59: Inner Strength

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment here. I hope that you will continue to enjoy this, but I warn you, there's another cliff to this one. Sorry, but that's the way these things sometimes are._

_Many thanks to my reviewers for their thoughts, and yes, Stealth Phoenix, your words I took to heart and that's why it sort of took some time for me to get this chapter up. Hope that it was worth the wait._

_Enjoy and please review._

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**Chapter 59: Inner Strength**

Willy watched as Belinda brandished the weapon and seconds later, he could suddenly feel himself nudged along the corridor with it. For a split second he thought that she was going to take him as a hostage or even kill him.

Although he was not about to convey this verbally, he knew beyond any doubt that he would rather be dead than to give in to a stalker's demands.

Taking a deep breath, he found the courage to stop walking, and eventually turned around. The end of the gun was still being pressed into his side, but he regarded the mad woman through unfeeling blue eyes.

At that moment, contrary to his calm demeanor, his heartbeat was practically racing as it thumped loudly inside his chest. There was no way that he would be able to speak rationally with this woman, she was a few hundred Oompa Loompas short of a village.

Looking down, he could see that Belinda's hand was still trembling as she tried to tighten her fingers around the hammer of the gun. At that moment, Willy could not help but remember how afraid Tamara had been right after he had brought her to the factory. Now, it looked as though 'poetic justice' was coming full circle because he was terrified.

"I-I won't shoot you," Belinda somehow managed to speak, her voice emerging in the form of a stammer. "I know that you hate violence."

Willy swallowed, his vast vocabulary somehow caught in his throat.

Eventually, he did manage to find his voice. "Yes, I do," he offered, his words completely even, albeit dull. "But I don't think that you really want to shoot anyone even if you wanted to. After all, you didn't try and shoot Tamara when you confronted us at the thrift store earlier today."

"I wanted to, though," she looked down at the gun that was still in her hand.

"But, you didn't, so that must mean that there is something redeemable in you."

Belinda cocked the weapon, and Willy swallowed.

That was not smart, he chastised himself. No matter what you do, don't antagonize her, even if it is tempting. Willy closed his eyes, all the while thinking that this was it, he was two seconds away from meeting his maker.

When Belinda eventually spoke, his eyes abruptly opened once again.

"You like Tamara?" she whispered, her words somehow demonstrating how much control she had lost of herself in the course of the last ten minutes.

"Yes I do," he nodded. "I love her."

"I don't believe that," she whispered as she raised the gun, her fingers still trembling as she tried to aim the object at him. It seemed clear that she was trying to force her will with it, and her sanity was on the brink of teetering off into 'no man's land'. Time suddenly felt as though it was standing still, the sounds of their breathing the only thing to be heard.

After several seconds passed, Belinda continued speaking, her voice shifting until it emerged in a shrill sounding screech. "You can't love her, you have to love me."

At that moment, her eyes were filled with so much demented rage that Willy was certain she was going to shoot him contrary to her earlier promise not to. The woman was as scatterbrained as they come, he thought. At that point, all he could do was try and pacify her until help arrived.

Tamara, do stay somewhere safe, he silently pleaded as he faced Belinda, his anger suddenly overriding his fear. "No, I don't!" He countered just as loudly. "If I had to choose between you and her, I would most definitely choose her."

Her eyes widened as these words filled the corridor. She studied his face closer for some sign of humor. Seeing none, her mouth became a thin line, the anger bursting forth. "I'm going to kill her, she doesn't deserve you." Coming even closer, instead of continuing to threaten him with the weapon, she tried to force herself into his arms.

The gun was still in her hand and despite her trying to keep her hold on it, this had proven difficult. As she tried to get him to return her haphazard embrace, the gun suddenly went off.

Willy's eyes widened in shock as he managed to back away from her while the bullet ricocheted off the walls and a soft cry emerged from the other end of the corridor.

Recovering quicker than she, Willy managed to capture her wrist in his grip and force the gun out of her hand. After several moments, he succeeded and watched as the offending weapon hit the floor and skidded across the tiled surface.

Turning his attention back towards her, he shook his head. "You're crazy," he shouted as he managed to kick the gun even further away. "After all these theatrics, you will probably be institutionalized."

Belinda's eyes went wild as she was hurled headfirst back into another flashback. There she was, a twenty-eight year old woman, behaving as a fourteen-year-old girl. Willy's expression shifted to that of skepticism when he suddenly heard her loud voice filling the corridor. "I will not go to the hospital, Papa!" She screamed as she tried to pull her wrist out of his grasp. Succeeding, she pushed him away as hard as she could.

"Papa?" Willy whispered under his breath, as he turned briefly away from the woman to collect his thoughts. Before he could so much as speak a word, her next statement emerged, thus confirming what Tamara had told him about Belinda's behavior the day before.

"You will not do to me what you did to Mum!"

Taking a deep breath, Willy came to the realization that perhaps Belinda was not at fault for her actions. The woman was clearly psychologically ill, perhaps even schizophrenic, as Tamara had implied.

How could I be so stupid? He asked himself for the second time since this confrontation had started. I was trying to talk to her as though she was normal, and she's obviously not.

Eventually, he took a deep breath. I'm not this woman's father, but she seems to have lost complete grasp of reality and thinks that I am.

He watched as she crawled her way over to the wall and sat down with her knees hugging against her chest. Taking a deep breath, he regarded her. The woman's hair was strewn about everywhere, her eyes literally bulging out of their sockets and instead of anger, fear was now the underlying emotion in her.

"I won't go," she was now crying hysterically, her voice filling the hallway once again. "I won't and you can't make me."

Willy arched an eyebrow as the image of Veruca Salt filtered about his mind. He watched all the while recalling how Tamara had spoken of her as a child who had lost her mother at such a young age. That was perhaps the only thing that they shared.

He took a deep breath as he approached where she was now sitting. He did not dare turn his back on her, although he was afraid of what would be behind him when he did.

Instead of immediately speaking, he leaned down and retrieved the gun from off the ground and without so much as thinking of what he was doing, he managed to empty it out. The bullets hit the floor and scattered about like marbles from a children's game. Once the cartridge was empty, he placed the object on the floor some distance away from where Belinda was now seated.

"Tell me about your mother," he said softly as he sat down across from her, his gaze never faltering. He did not instigate contact, instead he kept a safe distance from her.

Belinda raised her head only slightly, but when she saw that Willy was seated there, and realizing that he was not her father, she inched away from him and shook her head.

The chocolatier continued to watch, this time sensing that she was no longer worried about her mother. Now, her delusions seemed to be running away with her like a movie projector on fast forward. As her eyes closed, he released a pent up breath, as his gaze drifting back down the hallway. What he saw made him wish that he had not turned around at all.

Leaning against the wall, Willy saw his protégé seated next to Meagan, who had been the source of the crying just after the gun had gone off. Her arm was covered in blood and her body upper torso was sagged over her lap, her head was now resting exhausted against Charlie. Tamara was nowhere to be seen and this caused him to release a pent up breath.

I shouldn't have waited this long to see what had happened, he thought, but started to back himself away from where Belinda was seated and move discreetly in the direction of the two teenagers.

For her part, Meagan slowly raised her head, her glazed over eyes now filled with shock and pain as she regarded him. Instead of speaking, he continued to inch his way closer, his back momentarily facing where Belinda was seated.

Within seconds, however, Charlie had raised his head, and his blue eyes widened as he called out to his mentor. "Willy, look out!" He shouted as the chocolatier turned around to felt himself being tackled to the ground by the mentally ill woman.

"Hit her," Meagan's weak sounding voice filled the confectioner's healthy ear as he felt the wind literally being knocked out of him. Refusing to physically harm a woman, Willy turned his head to see that Meagan was staring at him through glazed over eyes. She was still conscious, he thought with relief, but for how long?

"Don't let her get away with this," Meagan continued to speak in worn out gasping breaths.

Before Willy could so much as react to what was happening, Belinda had somehow managed to shift her body so that he was trapped beneath her weight and pressed down against the floor. Leaning towards him, it was clear that she was trying to kiss him.

Remembering the kiss he and Tamara shared several nights before, he abruptly turned his head to one side as her suction like lips captured one of his cheeks. Trying to hide his distaste, he shifted his weight as though trying to distance himself from her onslaught.

Before any further words or actions could be taken, something happened, which neither the chocolatier nor his apprentice would ever forget. A blur of blue shot through the corridor as assertive words filled the area.

"Oh no you don't!"

Willy turned his head slightly to see that Tamara was now present and contrary to her stature, she was standing over them making Willy think, for an instant that she was ten feet tall.

Her hands were firmly pressed against her hips and her hostile eyes were bearing down on the two of them.

Before the chocolatier could so much as utter the words 'oh wangdoodle', Tamara had grabbed hold of Belinda's hair and jerked the other woman off of Willy as though Belinda weighed the same as bag of marshmallows.

Loosing her balance, she immediately felt herself falling, and both women found themselves sprawled out on the linoleum floor.

By this time, Willy managed to back away as the two woman started physically fighting, Belinda throwing haphazard punches while Tamara was trying with all her might to duck away from them.

"You can't have him," Belinda seethed as she rammed a fist against one side of Tamara's face. "You're a slut and I won't let you have him."

Tamara tried to dodge her way out of Belinda's wrath, but as she felt the fist against her nose, she could feel the moisture of the blood as it oozed out from beneath it.

For his part, Charlie briefly left Meagan's side and went over to render his assistance to his mentor. By this time Willy had managed to get away from the two women, his expression laced in horror as he stood frozen in the corridor watching.

Belinda wiggled around and with her hand she once again, struck Tamara's face, the blood smearing across it.

With her nose and cheek now throbbing, the short blonde headed woman shifted her weight and jumped out of the way. At that moment, she took the offensive and managed to trap the older of the two on the floor, her body weight preventing Belinda from moving. Angry words abruptly filled the corridor as she grabbed a tuff of Belinda's hair and pressed her head against the floor. "If you so much as try to move, I'll ram your head against the floor so hard you'll see stars," she threatened.

By this time, the blood from her nose was still dripping and her left eyes was now swollen shut from the number of blows she had sustained. "Someone go call the police. I don't ever want to hear of her bothering Willy again."

"You call him Willy?" Belinda shouted from beneath Tamara's weight.

"Yes, I do, and if I have anything to say about it, you'll never stalk another person as long as you live." As these words emerged, the tears streamed down her face and meshed with the blood that was now covering one side of her face.

After several moments, Belinda tried to push her way free from Tamara's hold. Being much shorter than the stalker, the elder of the two managed this with some semblance of ease.

Making Tamara topple over, she managed to get away from the younger woman. "I'm not finished, you are," she seethed as she tried to get her hands on the gun as well as the metal bullets. "I'll kill you for taking him away from me."

By this time, Willy had seen and heard enough, he cast a concerned glance towards Meagan, who nodded slowly.

He approached where Belinda was coming towards Tamara and without so much as a trace of fear, he intervened. Just before Belinda managed to hit Tamara, he used his hands and forced the two of them apart.

Seconds later his voice emerged, loud and commanding. "Now that's enough!" As it rumbled throughout the corridor, silence descended as he turned and looked at the older of the two squarely in the eye. "I'm putting an end to this nonsense once and for all. Belinda, if you want to tear Tamara apart, then you'll have to get past me to do it."

Belinda gasped, but reluctantly allowed her arms to lower. For once, no words emerged from either of them, but the chocolatier continued speaking nonetheless. "It's bad enough that you are trailing me, but when you start following my apprentice, assaulting our friends, and trying to beat up my girlfriend, then I have to draw the line somewhere."

"Y-your girlfriend?" Brenda whispered.

Willy cast a brief glance over towards Tamara, who offered a reciprocating nod. "Yes, my girlfriend and I must say that your behavior is no different than a child throwing a temper tantrum on a playground. Because you are an adult, this whole thing suddenly becomes far more dangerous than just children throwing toys at each other."

Belinda looked at him. "But, I love you…" she whispered.

"…No you don't," he snapped. "You love the fame and the notoriety, maybe even the factory, but you can't love me because you don't have even the vaguest idea who I am. You think you know, perhaps from watching a few too many third-rate movies that glorify this sort of thing, but you don't. Love is not comprised of trying to impress another person, it just is." He paused as he watched Tamara go over and seat herself next to Meagan on the ground.

"You're a very sick woman, Belinda. It is very clear to me that you don't need jail, you need a hospital; not a place that will rob you of your freedom, but will help you get better and reenter society. Right now, what you are doing is simply not normal. Tamara tried to tell you that your actions were not flattering or good, and you refused to listen to her. Instead, you got jealous and tried to hurt her. She understood the ramifications of these actions far better than anyone because she went through the very same thing as well."

"You don't love me?" She asked meekly.

"No, and trying to hurt or shoot me or the people I care about, is not going to win my affections either. You think if you can't have me, no one can, but you're wrong. The truth is, even if you wanted me, you would have to wait and see if I wanted you. Now, if you had gone about this in a normal way, then you might have stood a better chance of catching my attention, but seeing as that was not what you did, I could only conclude that you are the type of person that I don't even like. That may seem hard and cold to you, but what you have done does not merit any sort of positive emotion from me," he said. "You have not accomplished anything here, all that you have done is make yourself look foolish. Putting a dress caked in fake blood on the gate of the factory and then trying to get into a fist fight with Tamara is not going to help your cause in the least."

"She started it…" Belinda objected meekly.

"…And I finished it," he interrupted her with traces of impatience in his voice. "Tamara perhaps did assault you, but that was after you assaulted me. She was trying to protect me from you." He took a deep breath. "Now, you are an adult, and it's about time you started acting like one. Beating up another person does not show or demonstrate anything, except that you have no self-control."

By this time, Charlie returned to the corridor to see that Willy had completely taken control of the situation. He watched as Belinda dejectedly went over and sat down on the opposite wall, her body practically leaning against it.

For the first time since all of this had started, the stalker was silent. "The police are on their way," Charlie informed them as he looked at Belinda, his gaze laced in mistrust. His attention then shifted to Meagan.

She was still sitting on the floor, but this time, instead of sitting alone, Tamara was still seated next to her with the teenager's head resting against her shoulder. Charlie went over to her and touched Meagan's shoulder. "You have to be okay," he whispered to his friend.

Meagan nodded, but took a staggering breath as her uninjured hand reached for Charlie's. "But it hurts." She whimpered softly, but much to all of their relief, it seemed clear that she was trying to stay awake.

During this time, Charlie had taken off his sweater and was now using it to apply direct pressure against the wound.

"Charlie, did you call an ambulance, too?" Willy asked.

"Yes, when I called the police, I told them that Meagan got hurt, and the guy said they would dispatch an ambulance, too," Charlie said as he raised his head briefly to look at the chocolatier. "Is it finally over, Willy?" He asked.

"I think so," Willy said calmly. "Belinda's finally going to get the help that she needs, and you and Meagan can go back to school without having a shadow following you." He took a deep breath as he went over to where the teenage girl sat between Tamara and Charlie. He crouched down in front of her, his eyes seeking hers. "You were very brave," he whispered. "Thank you for being here, Meagan."

Instead of acknowledging his words, the girl closed her eyes and passed out.


	61. Chapter 60: Tying Up The Loose Ends

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment. Per the pressure of my readers, I am posting this chapter today. I hope that you will enjoy this update. I have been trying to figure out a good way to wrap this story up and I have an idea for it. A bit fluffy, but after all this angst, fluff is nice._

_At any rate, there will be a sequel, but I will take a pause before writing it. Hope that is OK, I have to figure out where my other story is going to go. At any rate, thanks to my reviewers who have been sticking with me throughout this one._

_Here's hoping that you enjoy the latest bit._

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**Chapter 60: Tying up the Loose Ends**

As all of this was happening, Willy went over to where Charlie was seated on the ground, his hand on Meagan's shoulder. "Charlie," he spoke the boy's name and waited as the boy inched his way from Meagan so that he could relieve him from taking care of her. He reached over and firmly but gently pressed his hand against the wound, the pressure making Meagan flinch. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he addressed the boy. "Keep an eye on Belinda. If she so much as moves, then you tell me."

The teenager nodded as his face went from displaying concern to absolute revulsion. As he regarded the woman, his expression became menacing. He looked as though he was ready to take up where Tamara and Belinda had left off.

Casting a tired glance at Tamara, he received a tired, but resigned look. Understanding her silent communication about not getting himself hurt on her account, he nodded as he walked over to where Belinda sat cowering against the wall. Towering over the stalker was the only poetic justice that existed for the youngest member of the Bucket family.

For his part, Willy looked over at his disheveled girlfriend. "I didn't plan for any of this, Tamara," he whispered helplessly.

She nodded as she painfully closed her eyes. "When I looked at you, just before Belinda hit me the first time, I could tell that you weren't prepared for what was happening, that you were shocked. It probably explained why you didn't get involved, you were literally frozen in fear," she whispered as she shifted and allowed Meagan's head to rest against her chest. She too, continued to stroke the injured girl's hair.

Willy nodded as he closed his eyes, this time the tears were streaming effortlessly down over his face. "The children I went to school with used to call me a 'wimp'. 'Wimpy Willy' they used to say, I guess my standing and watching you get beat up just proved it. When push comes to shove, I just stand back and let someone fight my battles for me."

"That's not true," Tamara whispered. "You're not a wimp, Willy. You were scared, she had a gun."

"Not when you arrived. By then she was disarmed," he said weakly. "Now, because of me you look like you got into a fight with an alley cat, and even Meagan's been hurt. If she dies, I'll never forgive myself."

Before Tamara could so much as utter a sound, Meagan's uninjured hand moved until it was resting on his. This made him turn his head and look down at her. She was now slowly licking her lips and trying to shift her weight. "I won't die," she whispered.

"Maybe not, but could you pacify me and try to stay awake?" Willy asked softly. "The ambulance should be here very soon and they can take you to the hospital and get you all fixed up."

The teenager nodded wearily as the tears of agony were still streaming down over her cheeks as she tried to maintain a sense of courage amidst everything that was happening. With her hand still on his, she spoke, her words practically running together in a slurred speech. "M-Mr. Wonka, p-please don't leave me, I'm f-frightened."

"I'm not going anywhere, Meagan," he affirmed softly.

Charlie took a deep breath as he looked shamefully at his mentor. "I swear, we didn't know that she was following us, Willy. We were talking so much about the assignment for school that we didn't think to look behind us to see if she was lurking about."

Meagan nodded. "I'm s-sorry, I let you down."

Willy smiled gently but shook his head. "You didn't let anyone down, Meagan. You were doing what any young person should be able to do at any given time. I think considering what happened, you were very brave, much braver than I was."

"You can't let this eat you up," Tamara said, thus breaking her silence. "You're a candy maker, not a prize fighter."

"She's right," Meagan whispered, trying all the while to keep her voice level. "Besides, if you were a fighter my cousin wouldn't love you as much as she does."

Willy's eyebrows arched, but he turned his attention to her and spoke, his voice filled with melancholy sincerity. "Oh Meagan, I've had enough people adoring me for a time. I think I would simply prefer to have some really good friends instead."

"That's what you'd have because she's only ten. She would call you her friend, but not a boyfriend, because to her that's gross." As she spoke, she allowed the book she carried to fall out of her uninjured arm and land on the floor. As it hit, a small snapshot slid out from between the pages. Wearily Meagan pointed. "She's the bravest little kid in the world."

"Bravest?" Willy asked as he retrieved the picture. Before he could look down at it, Charlie spoke.

"She's in the hospital and Meagan has been worried about her. That's why we started talking, because she was distracted by the operation the day I gave her the chemistry homework," Charlie explained as Willy looked down at the photograph.

The child looked older, but his eyes widened as he recognized the girl in the picture. It was the same child who had sent him the letter, which now hung on the wall back in his suite. This was the same child that Tamara had told him he should go and visit and now he would be able to. The little girl had grown up somewhat, but she was still the very same child who had written fan mail and drew pictures of him. He smiled as he returned the photo to Meagan's book and carefully closed it. Perhaps now was the time for him to overcome all the things that frightened him, step beyond the confines of the factory, and come face to face with this child.

Seconds later, Clara Bucket came rushing down the hallway with three uniformed officers in tow.

Never in his life had Willy Wonka been more grateful to see strangers in his factory than at that moment. With a gentle pat to Meagan's hand, he stood up before handing his apprentice's mother the key to his office. Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Clara, the letters and most of the packages are in my office in the bottom right corner drawer. There's another box in the Rainbow Light room, and we can turn all of it over to the police. I would also suggest that the officers go and have a look at their apartment. From what I understand, Belinda completely destroyed the place."

"What about you?" Belinda raised her head at that moment the anger no longer concealed. It seemed to all of those present that the woman was now trying to make herself look sane, contrary to her earlier outburst. "That movie looked as though you had kidnapped Tamara."

Everyone in the room, sans the police, froze as Belinda's words filled their ears. Charlie exchanged worried and frightened glances with his mother, while Tamara looked down at the ground, trying to compose herself. It was clear that she did not wish to give too much away, but her fears of Willy being taken away from her now rested squarely on her shoulders. Meagan simply looked confused.

For his part, Willy cringed as the realization that the movie his workers had rigged had, in fact, been rather incriminating. He took a deep breath as several pair of eyes turned and stared at him.

"Would you care to explain the suspect's words?" The policeman closest to him asked.

Taking a deep breath, he offered a defeated nod. "There's not much to explain, I did something that was very wrong and there's no excusing it." He confessed. "I mistook Tamara Jenkins for Belinda Hutchinson and she didn't deserve what I did to her. She is a good, loving, and kind person, and she endured my utter foolhardiness with all the grace and dignity that exists."

The officers looked somewhat confused, but instead of speaking, the leader of the group took a deep breath as he looked at Meagan. "The ambulance should be here very soon, young lady. Try and hang in there."

Meagan nodded as Charlie spoke. "Thank you, sir." He paused as he looked at the other officers. "Please don't blame Willy for what happened. None of it would have happened if Ms. Hutchinson had not been stalking him and sending him these creepy parcels. She's the one who should be locked up. It was she who caused Meagan to get hurt and no one else."

"What else did she do Charlie?" Clara asked.

"She was following us to and from school and Meagan helped me to elude her several times. Meagan's the first girl I've met since becoming Willy's apprentice who has treated me like I'm a friend and not some stupid celebrity." He got down on the floor with his classmate and reached for her hand. When she offered it freely, he smiled weakly at her. "You have to get better so I can take you to our spring formal, okay? That is, if you still want to stay here in town and be my lab partner." He took a deep breath. "I would understand if you didn't, though."

Meagan smiled amidst the painful tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "I'd like that, Charlie."

As the police watched the two teenagers, one of them eventually looked at Willy, before turning his head and addressing his colleagues. "Constable Thompson, you take the young lady here into custody, Constable Williams, you go with Mrs. Bucket and get the evidence, and I'll stay here and wait for the paramedics."

The others nodded, and with silent efficiency, Thompson went over and helped Belinda off the floor. As they were leading her away, she started crying out to Willy.

"I love you…" her voice emerged as a shrill scream.

Willy said nothing, instead he listened as the sounds of her voice faded as they reached the end of the corridor and disappeared around a corner.

Once the stalker was gone, the remaining officer looked at Willy. "Did you really abduct this young lady?"

Willy took a deep breath but offered a defeated nod. "I made a mistake and she suffered as a result."

Tamara looked at him. "Willy, no."

"It's true," he continued speaking. "When the parcels started arriving, I got very scared. I did not know what Belinda was capable of doing. Instead of contacting you as I should have done, I tried to take matters into my own hands."

"Self-justice never works, Mr. Wonka," the policeman affirmed.

"I realized that, and I know that what I did was very wrong and I'm willing to accept responsibility for it," he said bravely.

The policeman turned and looked at Tamara. "Would you be willing to file the appropriate charges against him?"

"Absolutely not," Tamara whispered. "I love him and for what it's worth, when he brought me here, he saved my life. Just check the files you have on Neil Kirkwood, and you'll understand what I mean."

"Were you the girl that Kirkwood was after?" The policeman asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Then you probably knew the truth all along and you're very lucky," he said. "When we brought Kirkwood in the other day, we found out that he had stalked another young woman. This one did not have a happy ending. Her funeral was three weeks ago and he was a suspect to her murder."

Tamara looked at Willy. "Then it really is true, you did save my life." Wordlessly, she stood up and went over to him and practically threw herself into his surprised arms.

The chocolatier raised his arms and held her, his body now trembling as much as hers.

As their embrace loosened, the policeman cleared his throat. "I suppose regardless of what Belinda Hutchinson may have said just now, we cannot do anything without your statement, Ms. Jenkins. It's rather a 'he said / she said' scenario, and those never seem to pan out in the legal system. At any rate, there's no feasible way that we can bring charges against Mr. Wonka for this because you are unwilling to cooperate in this matter." His expression shifted and he offered Willy a slight grin. "Oh well, you know what would have happened if I had to arrest you, Mr. Wonka?"

Both Willy and Tamara shook their heads, thus causing him to continue. "Well, my kids would probably disown me from today until the end of eternity." He ran his hand through his dark brown hair as he continued, a smirk lining his face. "I don't want to risk that, and besides that, if the suspect is as delusional as you seem to have indicated, then this could be construed as part of her 'illness'."

"Maybe there's something good about being famous," Meagan whispered and they looked down to see that she was once more awake.

Willy nodded, but smiled down at her. "Maybe."

As these words filled the corridor, two paramedics came rushing down the hall towards them with a stretcher rolling alongside them. "Hello, Mr. Wonka," one of them said greeting the confectioner, but looked at the other policeman. "Constable, your colleagues let us in and they said that they would be waiting for you outside."

The officer nodded but looked at Meagan. "You take care, young lady," he said and with one last parting glance at Willy, he left the group and made his way back down the hall. Approaching, the paramedics immediately set to work and picked up Meagan and placed her on a stretcher.

"Is she going to be alright?" Tamara eventually asked.

"She'll be just fine, gunshot wounds to arms are not fatal, but they are pretty painful. All she's going to require are a couple of stitches and a few tests, then she'll be good to go," the paramedic said.

Charlie looked at his mother. "Mom, I want to go with them," he said. "Meagan's my friend, and I really care about her."

Clara nodded, "We can both go, and when we get there, we can call her parents and let them know what happened," she said, but looked at Tamara and Willy. "Maybe you two should go and clean up and can meet us there later."

Willy nodded as he went over to Meagan and rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll see you later, alright?"

Meagan nodded as the two paramedics rolled her down the hall and disappeared in the distance.

Pretty soon, the only people remaining were Willy and Tamara.

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Once they were alone, the chocolatier looked at her, his head shaking in profound disbelief. He went over to where she was still sitting on the ground, her eye swollen shut and her face covered with dried blood.

"I shouldn't have left you to fight my battle," he whispered.

"Forget about it," she said. "I was so out of my mind with anger when I saw her with that gun."

"You saw that?" He asked.

She nodded. "One of you workers grabbed my hand and wouldn't let me get any closer. He introduced himself as Naibouli, and somehow he knew that I was so scared and I didn't know what to do."

"What did he tell you?" He asked.

"H-he said that if anything happened to me, that you would never overcome it, and that sometimes other people have to fight their own battles," she whispered. "I guess that's what happened when I went after Belinda. I wanted to fight her, to show her that what she did to me was not right. She destroyed a part of my life and I wanted her to suffer as a result."

"That's why you fought with her?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"I thought it was because of me," he smiled slightly.

"In a way it was, because it was for us," she whispered as she felt his hand taking hers and his fingers winding their way around her hand. "I never felt so strong or validated as I did when I was fighting against her. It was like I was countering all the heartache and fear that I had endured these past weeks."

"I caused it," he whispered.

"No you didn't," she said. "When the policeman told us that Neil was facing murder charges, everything suddenly became clear to me. I mean; it started out a kidnapping, but it ended with you having been like a hero. I know it sounds really strange for me to say so, but it's really the truth." She closed her eyes and cringed. "Can we continue this somewhere else? I think I need a raw steak for my eye."

Willy nodded and together, they stood up and started to make their way down the corridor in the direction of the Wonkavator. As he summoned it, he looked down at her. "I'm going to take you to my Inventing Room, there we can give you a Wonkavite."

"A what?" She asked as the glass Wonkavator arrived and he opened the door.

"It's an invention of mine that might help your injuries heal a little bit faster," he said. "I didn't think of it while Meagan was here, but since it's a secret, I think I can share it with you. Would you trust me to at least try to alleviate your pain?"

Tamara nodded. "Of course, I trust you with my life."

With his arm around her, he helped her to sit down inside the confines of the flying machine. There he pressed the button to the desired room and within seconds they had arrived. "This is the most secret place in the entire factory," he whispered as he tapped lightly on the door and a green headed Oompa Loompa opened it from the inside. When the shorter man regarded him curiously, he flushed slightly. "I forgot the key."

Tamara nodded as they entered the large, gray colored room.


	62. Chapter 61: A Confectioner's Inquiry

_Hello and welcome to the next installment of this story. I have a few things I want to say about this chapter in particular. It took me some time to decide how I was going to present this particular part of the story. I wanted, more than anything to be realistic and not make this fluffy or 'pick an adjective'._

_The other thing is sometimes it takes a very traumatic situation to make others realize what is important to them. To me, Willy's discovery of how significant Tamara is, is case in point. So, whether you like the ideas conveyed here or not, this is part of where the story is going. I know that many people are not into fluff, and that's OK, but please bear with me as this is my story._

_Enjoy the latest part, but don't string me up for it. I have been worried enough about this chapter as is._

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**Chapter 61: A Confectioner's Inquiry**

As she entered, what met her gaze, instead of seeing sleek machinery that hummed, what she saw was a strange combination of lab equipment, large caldrons, and a machine covered with rainbow colored tarp. It was like walking through a fun house, and not really knowing what to touch or even do.

Tamara kept her arms lowered as Willy led her across the room to a group of cabinets. The labels on the various jars read sort of like the bottles in an old fashioned pharmacy. As she studied the jars, she saw a group of labels and words literally leaping out at her.

_Wonkavite Normal, 30 percent_

_Wonkavite Middle, 45 percent_

_Wonkavite Super Potent, 90 percent_

_Vitawonk forty and a third percent_

_Vitawonk eighty seven and one eighths percent_

_Headbanger Gumdrops Hangover Cure_

_Navigational Jelly For the Perpetually Lost_

_Tongue Twister Tablets_

Wonkavite, Vitawonk? She thought, as Willy reached into the cabinet and extracted one of the bottles. Crossing over to the table, he watched as she slowly approached him, a question looming.

Instead of offering any sort of answer, he began to tap the bottle lightly on the table. "I told them no more child-proofed bottles," he muttered under his breath as he managed with somewhat a strain at getting the bottle opened.

Tamara watched as he extracted a small yellow-orange colored tablet. It was about the size of a children's chewable vitamin, but in the familiar 'w' shape as well as the font as was used on his candy bar wrappers. Looking closer, she discovered the word 'Wonkavite' was imprinted on the label.

Willy's initial frown melted away as he dropped the small tablet into her hand before returning the bottle to the shelf and pulling down the bottle marking the 45 percent variety. "What are you going to do with that?" She asked softly.

"I'm taking one to Meagan, but since her injuries are much more intensive than yours, I imagine that this stronger potency will help her. These pills, unlike the one you have can dissolve in a glass of ordinary drinking water," he said as he dug around in a drawer and pulled out a small plastic bag.

Placing the tablet inside it, he closed it and returned it to his pocket. Turning around, his smile faded when he saw that she was still holding her Wonkavite in her hand and had not yet taken it. "What are you waiting for?" He asked. "You can eat this, it should at least do something to help your eye."

"But, Willy, I don't understand. What is this thing exactly?" She asked, her expression somewhat fearful as she diverted her attention from the tablet to him. "What is Wonkavite?"

"It's an invention, mostly used to alter people's ages, but in this particular variety, in extremely low dosages, it has been positively tested to help the immune system heal the body from certain injuries in a much quicker manner," he said. When she did not react, he took a deep breath, but regarded her through intent blue eyes. "You said you trusted me." His challenging statement emerged.

"I do trust you. I just don't know what to make of all this," she confessed weakly.

"Do you think I would make you into a guinea pig?" He asked. "Tamara, I wouldn't do that. Look, if it would help, I'll take one as well."

"But, you're not hurt," she whispered.

"I am a little, hurt that you don't trust me enough to let me do something to help you," he said softly. He reached over and rested his hand against one side of her face. "Just trust me, please."

Tamara nodded, but dubiously, she put the small tablet in her mouth and started to chew it up. Once she had swallowed it, she looked at him. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered. "I guess I'm just a little bit out of it right now."

He nodded as he continued to stroke her face. "I didn't know what to make of you. You're a real bundle of surprises, you know. When you showed up in the corridor and confronted Belinda, I didn't know what to say, do, or even think."

She smiled slightly. "It was adrenaline, it does strange things to a person when they least expect it."

"Combined with you, I can see how that might be considered dangerous," he mused as he pulled her in his arms and looked down at her. "Do you have any more surprises in store for me, my dearest lady?"

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I can't say for certain."

He leaned in and collected a slow kiss from her. Withdrawing, he took a deep breath. "Tamara, tell me what you are thinking about."

"I was just remembering how I had grabbed Belinda by the hair and was threatening to ram her head against the floor. I was thinking about it because over time I learned that you didn't like violence and I was worried that my behavior might have upset you. When it happened, it somehow felt like I was finally taking something back, something that was mine." She looked up at him. "Something that I deserved."

As though motivated by instinct, Willy nodded, his fingers still lightly touching her face. "Tamara, I would never be upset or angry with you for reacting on impulse. The truth is, when I consciously realized what was happening, I felt as though I had waited too long."

"You didn't, because I felt as though I was sort of out of control. I was dodging all these blows, but I wanted to teach her a lesson. I guess, I got what I deserved, and now I look like something the cat dragged in," she whispered weakly as she looked up at him.

"No, you're still beautiful to me," he said smiling down at her. "The most beautiful woman in the world, and you chose to get involved in this mess and ultimately, you ended up saving my life."

"But I didn't," she whispered. "You had everything under control when I arrived."

"You did more than just help me with regard to Belinda, you gave me a lust for life, and reminded me that there is more to my life than just making candy. I have to get out sometimes and you probably knew that from the start." He smiled despite the earnestness of his words. "Tamara, I think that you would have been safer had you stayed with Truffles, but I'm so glad you didn't." Without saying another word, he buried his face against her, and held on as tightly as he could. "At that moment, I was more afraid for you than I was for myself."

Tamara took a deep breath as her own arms wound securely around him. "Oh Willy, don't you remember when I asked you what _we_ were going to do about Belinda? I didn't ask you what _you _were going to do. I mean; it was awful, but I wanted to be there. I suppose I had to. If I had stayed in your room with Truffles then I would never have discovered the truth about Neil's dangerous acts." She allowed her eyes to close as she allowed her body to completely relax in his hold.

"Do you remember what you told me in the Wonkavator after Neil was arrested?" He asked softly as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"I don't really remember, I know I told you a lot of stuff," she whispered.

"You said that you saw my image in your mind during that confrontation," he began. "I didn't fully understand what you meant when you told me about it, but then when Belinda pulled the gun, everything suddenly became clear to me. I thought I was going to die before I would see you again. I know that you mean everything to me, but I also knew that I wanted to hear your voice again, to hear you speak my name or tell me that you loved me regardless of the mistakes I have made. I wanted to tell you so many things that I figured I would never have the chance to say. I wanted you to know that you give my life meaning. As I was watching those images on the wall, I realized that there was nothing that I wanted more than to be with you forever."

"Forever?" She whispered. "Oh Willy, no one's ever said anything that beautiful to me before."

He smiled. "Now, that truly surprises me, because you deserve all the kind words and loving intentions that exist in this world."

In response to his words, she once again buried her face against his chest. As the soothing sounds of his heartbeat filled her ears, she could feel the tears stinging her eyes beneath the folds of his shirt.

It was finally over and they were safe.

Instead of immediately speaking, he began to run his hands through her hair. "When I heard you speak back in the corridor, I became even more afraid than I already was. I mean; a part of me was relieved in the knowing that I wouldn't be facing this alone, while another part of me was worried and afraid for your safety and well being." As he spoke, his breathing became heavier.

"Oh God, Tamara, It was at that moment when I realized that there was no way for me to imagine the rest of my life without you being a part of it. I knew that I need you and that I want you with me always." He smiled shyly at her, his voice still cracking with emotion as he continued speaking. "It's rather selfish of me, is it not?"

She raised her head and looked into the depths of his blue eyes. "No, I want the very same thing as you," she whispered. "Before we met, I was afraid to love another person. I spent all my time trying to protect myself from getting hurt. I ended up closing myself off completely. Soon after that, I was forced to run away from my family and friends just to get away from Neil. When I moved here, I thought it was only so that I could continue to exist, that my life was over and I was on my own. But, that wasn't the case at all. I mean, when all of these things started to happen, I realized that your mistake was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Only yesterday, you were angry with me about that," he whispered.

"I know, but that was because I was really scared," she confessed as she looked up at him. "I couldn't explain how it was that you captured my heart. The thing is, I've never loved anyone the way I love you, and maybe I was more afraid of you asking me about my motives than I was of another person asking. I mean; what would I say when I don't even know the answer myself."

Willy leaned towards her and captured her face gently in his hands. During the time they had spoken, the swelling around her eye had dissipated somewhat, although not entirely, the blackness was still present. Instead of commenting on this, he leaned in and kissed her.

When the kiss broke, he took a deep breath as his next words emerged in a spontaneous rush. "I know that this may sound crazy to you, but I want to marry you. Would you have me, Tamara?"

She backed away and looked at him. Willy Wonka was proposing to her. This wonderfully eccentric man who had done so much for her in such a short span of time now wanted to have her in his life always.

She hesitated, the words washing over her like a warm spring rain. "Marry you?"

"Listen, I know that this is unexpected, it is for me as well. I didn't charge off to battle with Belinda with the thought that I would propose to you once the entire situation had resolved itself. Things don't always happen like that and in truth, I'm not even prepared for it. I have no ring, and right now I look rather out of sorts, we both do. I just know that when I find the right lady, I don't ever want to let her go." He smiled weakly at her, but continued speaking. "Perhaps it's strange of me to say, but sometimes people do discover the meaning of true love in the strangest of places or oddest of circumstances. The thing is, after we faced all of these challenges together, I have come to realize that if I had one day left to live, I would want to spend it with you."

Before she could respond, he continued, his words laced in sincerity. "I know that I have always been married to my work and from the start, you have known that it's very important to me. Yet, I also know that no matter what I do, or how much candy I produce, there is no feasible way for it to ever love me back. It cannot give me in twenty years of working what you have given to me in only a week's time."

She took a deep breath. "Maybe, but Willy, isn't this all a bit sudden?"

"Maybe, and perhaps you think I'm really crazy for having asked," he said. "I should have a dinner prepared and champagne, but that's not always the way these things happen. You have seen me in a more vulnerable state than anyone else ever could." As he spoke, his eyes implored her to understand his feelings. "I want to be the man deserving of you. I want us to be together no matter what the future may hold. I want to know what your hopes and dreams are, so that I can support them and help you fulfill them. Tamara, I'm not afraid to do anything anymore, not after we have conquered so much together."

She leaned over towards him and gave him an affirming kiss, her lips lightly teasing his. When it ended, she was staring deeply into his eyes. "Could we have a long engagement?"

He nodded, his gaze never faltering. "Anything you want, I'm not going to pressure you about this. I just want you to know that these are my feelings, and if you share them, then in the near or distant future, we could get married. My only desire is to make you as happy as you have made me."

Instead of immediately speaking, she wound her arms around his neck but nodded as she buried her face against his chest and breathed in the scent of fresh air and chocolate that encased him. Raising her head, she smiled. "Then the answer is yes, I'll marry you," she whispered as she abruptly felt his lips pressing against hers. As the kiss intensified, he picked her up in his arms and started to carry her out of the room and in the direction of the waiting Wonkavator.

After several moments of exchanging sweet kisses, she raised her head and looked at him. "I think before we plan a wedding or do anything else, we need to get to the hospital and see how Meagan is doing. Something tells me that she's going to want to see you today."

Willy nodded his head. "You're absolutely right, we should and perhaps the Wonkavite will help her as it seems to have helped you."

Raising her head, the first thing she noticed was that pain up next to her eye had faded somewhat. Perhaps he was right, she thought to herself as she felt his hand against her shoulder.

"I hope that it will help her, too," she whispered. A small smile abruptly tugged at the corners of her mouth. With her head resting against his shoulder, they took the Wonkavator to the front gate of the factory.


	63. Chapter 62: Lessons Learned

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment of this story. It's winding down rather quickly, a lot of things are being resolved in the most realistic way I can figure out. I think there will be three more chapters and an epilogue before this one winds up. I'm going to then focus on 'In Another's Eyes' and then the sequel (continuation) story for this (when they meet Portia and go camping). It seems rather silly for me to continue this plot device in this story, because of the main idea being the stalking issue._

_Oh well, thanks to my reviewers (specifically Stealth Phoenix...I love the way you roll note at bottom teehee! and YaYa...thanks bunches for your continued support!) and please keep me posted on how this is shaping up. I love reviews, so no matter how big or small, bring them on. _

_Happy reading. A side note, out of curiosity, I went and checked Wikipedia for the proper spelling for 'Nurses Ratched', as I was sure when I wrote that bit that it was correct. But, since two reviewers thought it was spelled differently I went and had a look. Through that, I realized that my 20 year old memory of reading this work in the eleventh grade, was still on the up and up. I actually had it right! That doesn't happen very often. But, it always pays to check.  
_

_Oh and the part you mentioned, Stealth Phoenix, I fixed. Hope it's now much clearer._

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**Chapter 62: Lessons Learned**

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the front of the hospital and Tamara and Willy walked through the doors and into the waiting room. Several heads turned, but no one spoke to them, at least not directly.

They approached the long counter where an on duty nurse was seated, her shoulders hunched over and her gaze centered on a pile of paperwork. "There was a young girl brought in during the last hour or so," he began as she raised her head, but ignoring him, she lowered it once again.

For whatever reason, this woman reminded Willy remotely of 'Nurse Ratched' from One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest. Her lips were curved downward in an almost leering expression, her coal black eyes meeting his briefly as though wanting to confront him for having disturbed her.

It was no wonder I spent so much time alone inside the factory, he thought skeptically. If this is the general manner that people have here, then it does clarify why I lost faith in humanity when I did. His thoughts abruptly shifted back to the women at the boutique. For the first time in a very long time, Willy fully understood what Tamara had meant about not feeling comfortable in certain environments.

Instead of commenting on that aspect of things, he waited for the woman to acknowledge his words. When she did not, he cleared his throat somewhat abruptly, thus causing her to raise her head and stare at him. He repeated his request, all the while watching her shuffle through the paperwork.

"Her name, please?" The woman asked in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

"Meagan," Willy began, but at that moment, the surname of the girl completely slipped his mind. He turned and looked at Tamara. "I don't remember her last name. Charlie told me, but I can't remember."

"I cannot give you a room number or any information without the girl's surname," the nurse responded.

"Maybe you could take this as a special circumstance," Tamara snapped, her voice equaling the nurse's in terms of attitude. "This is Willy Wonka, and the young girl in question was shot at his factory when a stalker managed to get inside this afternoon."

"You're Willy Wonka?" The woman asked as she looked at the disheveled man who stood before her.

"Yes, I am, and contrary to the way I am dressed, I can assure you of that that is who I am," he said as he dug in the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. "I can show you some identification, if that would help."

Before the woman could so much as respond or even ask, they heard their names being called and Willy turned away from the rude woman as relief etched its way across his face.

At the other end of the corridor was Charlie and Clara coming towards them. Charlie's expression was laced with concern while his mother's seemed to mirror that of aggravation. "It would seem as though I am not the only person who is being treated in such an unflattering manner here. It would truly not surprise me if some of your visitors grew sick of such treatment and became patients themselves. My guess is, they'd probably outnumber the real patients by tenfold," he remarked as he took note of the unhappy look that shadowed Clara's face.

Tamara nodded and tried to conceal a look of amusement that crossed the face of the nurse who had picked up on the confectioner's bold statements. "That'll teach her not to judge people based on appearances," she mused as they went over to the chocolatier's apprentice.

"How is she?" Willy immediately asked once they were all standing together.

"She's fine, but there's a huge problem," Charlie began before his mother could even utter a sound.

"What is it?" Willy asked.

"Her parents don't have insurance and the doctors here are talking about stabilizing her condition and then sending her somewhere else," Clara answered for her son.

"That's ridiculous," Willy muttered.

"That's what I've been trying to tell them," Clara said with exasperation in her voice. "When I finally was able to speak with a doctor, I told him that they should help Meagan and then worry about the money. This was all done while Charlie was calling her parents, but he came back when I was still talking to them. He heard them say straight up how this was a hospital and not a 'soup kitchen'. If that wasn't enough, then they said that Meagan looked like a kid who got caught in a drug deal gone bad. I tried to explain to them what actually happened, but they wouldn't listen to me. They proposed sending her to a hospital across town."

Willy looked at Tamara. "I don't understand, doctors are supposed to help patients, not work solely for the sake of money." It was clear that the more he was outside the safety of his factory, the more disgruntled he became.

Tamara rested a calming hand on the chocolatier's shoulder, but looked at the teenager. "What else happened?"

"Not much, after her parents got here, they argued that they needed her here because it was closer to where they live and how they don't have a car," Charlie whispered. "Why do they have to make everything so complicated?"

"I don't know, but this whole thing is absurd," Willy said as he took a deep breath. "Are they at least tending to Meagan's injuries?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes, but they seemed rather reluctant about even doing that." He took a deep breath as he looked from Tamara to Willy. "I tried to talk to her folks, but they are pretty out of sorts about the whole thing. I guess they are not certain if I could actually do anything because I'm just a kid. I guess they figure that this whole thing is some sort of cruel joke."

"Where are they right now?" Willy asked.

"In the emergency room waiting area filling out a bunch of stupid paperwork," Charlie grumbled. "It's just not fair, they have all these worries to contend with."

"We know, Charlie," Clara affirmed with a nod of her head, but she rested a reassuring hand on her son's shoulder. "The problem is they have no idea what to do with regards to the money issue. I think they really need your help, Willy, but they're not about to ask for it."

Charlie looked at his mother. "Why not?"

"It's not always easy to swallow one's pride, Charlie. Look at how long it took Grandpa George to get used to the factory," she said. "To many people, this sort of issue is rather like charity. Someone having money is part of that problem, and the trick is finding a way to even out that imbalance."

"But Mom, it's just about money…" his voice trailed. "…I mean; we're talking about Meagan, not a piece of furniture or property. She's a person and right now she needs our help."

"We know you care for her, Charlie," Tamara said, thus breaking her silence. "You cannot hide it. It sort of showed when you were talking to her back at the factory. You want to do what is right. But, if you ask me, having someone like Willy coming in to save the day is rather like a fairy tale come true. Sometimes people don't know what to make of that." Instead of continuing, she took a deep breath as she looked over at him. "Willy, have you any ideas about how you can help Meagan's family?"

"If they don't want my help then there's nothing I can do. I will not force my will on them, but it was our home where all this happened," he began.

"Then use that angle," Tamara said as she looked up at him. "You feel responsible, right?"

The chocolatier nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Then put it in that language. I mean; tell it to them in that way, that you feel that since all of this happened in your home, that you feel responsible for her, Charlie, me…everyone," Tamara said firmly. "If you make it sound like owning up to something and not charity, then maybe it will work."

"It's a good idea and worth a try," Clara said.

"I only hope that it will make them see to reason," Willy said as he brushed his hand through his still unruly hair. Seconds later, he turned towards his fiancé. "Tamara, would you mind taking Charlie to the cafeteria and getting him some hot chocolate or something to calm him down?"

She nodded as she released her hold on his arm and rested her hand on the teenager's shoulder. "We're going to set everything right, Charlie, just trust me," the confectioner said.

The boy nodded as he felt himself being led away.

Clara nodded once to the chocolatier and wordlessly followed her son and Tamara down the long corridor towards the cafeteria. Once they had rounded a corner, they disappeared in the distance.

Alone, the chocolatier considered their words before making his way down the hallway. Walking through several doorways, he eventually reached a second waiting area.

Pushing his way through the door, he entered a darkened room with mahogany colored furniture. In this room, only a handful of people were present. Some standing around a vending machine with paper cups in their hands, while others were inside a small chapel.

As his gaze scanned over the small group of people, he stopped everything he was doing when he saw a couple who were standing next to a second doorway.

Both the man and the woman were pacing about, the woman's hands wringing anxiously together while the man was holding a clipboard. Like Meagan, they were both dressed in a manner that depicted their economic status and ironically, this was how Willy was able to recognize them.

Swallowing the strange mixture of empathy and fear, he came closer, but stopped abruptly when he heard the woman's nervous sounding voice filling his healthy ear and thus permeating the small section of the room.

"How are we going to afford this, Thomas?" The woman was nervously asking the man. "None of us are insured and between Portia's treatment and this, we both know that we cannot finance it all. My job doesn't pay benefits at all and you haven't been at yours long enough to get anything for the kids. We're doing well to have enough food on the table."

"Don't worry, Edith," the man responded, his voice laced in unconvinced undertones. "We'll manage…somehow. I'll try and get a second job or..."

"…Excuse me," Willy spoke, thus interrupting the simple flow of words. "I don't mean to interrupt, but are you Meagan's parents by chance?"

"Yes," the man said as he turned and looked at the chocolatier. His expression somehow depicting that he did not recognize who Willy even was. "I'm Thomas Lovejoy, and this is my wife, Edith."

"I'm…" before he could even finish introducing himself, Edith raised her head and offered a watery smile.

"…You're Willy Wonka," she finished for him. When he nodded slowly, she continued speaking, her words soft. "Meagan said that she crossed paths with you earlier this week. I'm only sorry that we have to meet under such circumstances as these." Her eyes slowly closed and she looked away.

"I know what you mean, and yes, I agree," he nodded. "I truly don't mean to intrude on your affairs, but I really wanted to see how your daughter was doing. Perhaps this may not be the right thing for me to say, but she is a very brave young lady."

Thomas grunted incoherently, but no words emerged from him.

Instead, the response was from Meagan's mother. "Perhaps. Meagan told us what happened several days ago when that woman was following her. I must confess that I didn't believe her initially. You see, our daughter is a fantasy-filed person and very much a storyteller of sorts. This is not a bad thing, she loves books and stories, you see. At any rate, I figured that this was one of her tales and nothing more."

Willy took a deep breath but shook his head sadly. "I understand that things could have been misconstrued, but this was, tragically, nothing of the sort. In hindsight, if I had found myself in a similar situation, I would perhaps not feel too terribly inclined to believe it either. Yet, one thing is clear to me and that is that both Meagan and Charlie were afraid because of what had been happening."

"Yes," Edith said with a slight nod. "When she spoke to me about what was happening, it was before she had even met you. I suppose after not getting the response that she anticipated, she decided not to tell us anything further. Of course, she was very excited and happy when she got to meet you." She paused for several seconds and then continued. "Somehow, I had this strange feeling that she was trying to protect you."

Willy nodded. "She did protect me and she protected Charlie as well," he said but cast a glance towards the clipboard that was still in Thomas' hand. "Would you permit me to assist you with that, Mr. Lovejoy?" He asked.

"We don't need your charity, Mr. Wonka," Thomas said, the overwhelming pride etched in his voice. This, if anything, depicted that Meagan's father was insulted. Of course, it was clear that after having heard the feeble undertones of the man's voice, that the family was on the verge of financial disaster.

Willy took a deep breath, his next words emerging laced in his own brand of attitude. "It's not charity I'm offering, Mr. Lovejoy. It is merely me accepting the responsibility for what has happened. Your daughter was injured at the factory and that is my home. Although I acknowledge that I was not the one holding the weapon in question, I do accept the moral accountability for what happened to her. A child generally does not come into our factory and get gunshot wounds from the experience."

Edith looked at him. "You really want to help her, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Willy nodded.

Thomas dully nodded but handed the clipboard to Willy before crossing the room and seating himself on one of the chairs. Willy watched his action and took a deep breath as Edith regarded him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wonka, Thomas and I both come from very independent backgrounds, and generally we try to handle these things on our own."

"Sometimes people need friends to help them through situations like these," he said. "That's what your daughter showed me, Mrs. Lovejoy." With those words still hanging in the air, he went over to another group of chairs and sat down.

For the next ten minutes, he filled in the remaining documentation before getting up and returning the object to Meagan's father. "I am only doing this for Meagan," he said firmly as he regarded the man. "She should be the priority, not our own pride or arrogance."

Thomas nodded as he accepted the offered object. "Of course," he muttered softly, but turned away so that Willy would not see that his face was flushed with shame.

Once Willy had been relinquished of the object, he waited for the man to recover from his embarrassment before speaking. "May I see her?" His question was soft, but before either of them could respond, he continued. "I would understand if you'd rather me not see her. You are her parents and are responsible for her well being."

"Of course you may see her, Mr. Wonka," Edith said with a slow nod. "I think that given this particular circumstance, that would make Meagan very happy."

Willy nodded gratefully, but instead of speaking further, he simply went over to one of the chairs and settled himself to wait.

* * *

_AN for Stealth Phoenix: 'Nurse Ratched' was an idea for 'Spencer' and 'Reggie'...I just love those OCs! Hey now that reference is in my story too, imagine that! Teehee._


	64. Chapter 63: Finding Hope

_Hello and welcome to the next installment of this story. I am really working on winding down on this and want to get the last bits posted so that I can really focus on 'In Another's Eyes'. Whatever will I do when I get this done? Perhaps start working on 'The Searchers' again, since that's gone by the wayside. _

_At any rate, thanks to my reviewers for the comments, and please check the last chapter Author's Notes for the bit about the Nurse Ratched bit. It bears not repeating here._

_Anyway, enjoy the latest bit._

* * *

**Chapter 63: Finding Hope**

Twenty minutes later, Willy found himself standing in front of a hospital room door. Soon after they had settled down to wait, the doctor emerged and informed them that Meagan had been moved to a private room and was now ready to receive visitors.

As soon as they had reached the door leading into the room, Edith reached out and pressed down on the lever thus granting them access. Before completing this action, she stopped and turned to look at Willy. "The doctor said that she would have to stay for a couple of days for observation. They want to make sure that she didn't sustain any further injuries. Of course, this is all depending on how well she takes to the medication. Of course, he also said that she may have to have therapy for the trauma."

"You're still worried," he said all the while internally pondering how it was that the doctors could change their tune as quickly as it did.

Edith nodded. "If you hadn't have helped us…"

"…don't give it another thought," he interrupted her. "Cost doesn't matter in the slightest to me. You must know that I will do whatever it takes to insure that your daughter gets well."

"Thank you," she smiled weakly. "We really do appreciate it. Thomas just has a hard time accepting help from other people. He wants to take care of everything, but grows discouraged when he can't."

"I understand, Mrs. Lovejoy," he affirmed as she reached for the door handle a second time. After several seconds, he continued. "I won't stay too long, I know that your daughter needs her rest."

Edith nodded as she led him into the room. There, they found Meagan lying on a large white colored hospital bed. The teenager was dressed in a hospital shift and her wounded arm had been treated and was bandaged. An IV was hooked up and nutrients were dripping into her other arm. Her eyes were open and she was curiously watching the activities at the door.

The older woman crossed the room and she looked down at her daughter. "Meagan honey, there's someone here who wants to see you? Do you feel up to company?"

"Sure, Mum," Meagan said softly as she turned her head towards the door and smiled slightly when she saw that it was the chocolatier standing next to it.

"Then I'll leave you two alone," Edith said. As she gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze, she walked over to Willy and wordlessly smiled. She then walked past him and stepped out of the room.

Once the door had closed behind her, Willy walked over to where Meagan was lying.

"Hello," he said as he sat down next to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days," she said.

He nodded affirming her words, but reached over and brushed a strand of hair out from in front of her face. "I have too." He took a deep breath as he fished the small plastic bag out of his pocket. "I brought you something."

"What?" She asked.

"It's a secret invention of mine, but it should help you to feel a little bit better," he said as he reached for the small plastic cup that was filled with water and on the bedside table. With that object now in his hand, he fished out the plastic bag and emptied the contents into the cup. He silently watched as the Wonkavite dissolved in the water.

"What is that?" She asked softly.

"It's something that I should have given to you back at the factory, but the thought completely slipped my mind," he said gently. "At any rate, it should help in the healing process."

Meagan nodded as he brought the cup over to her so that she could inspect the contents a bit closer before actually taking it. With both of her arms now immobile, it looked as though she had no choice as to what was about to happen to her.

Willy, sensing her anxiety, waited and watched as she inched her way closer to the cup, thus granting him allowance to administer the strange substance. As soon as she had swallowed the contents, he returned it to the night stand and sat back down.

After several seconds had passed, she licked her lips. "It's lemon, that's one of my favorite flavors."

Willy smiled as he bowed his head slightly. For several moments, neither of them spoke. In fact, it seemed as though they were pretty much lost in their own thoughts.

Meagan watched as he shifted his weight in the chair all the while recalling how much the fun they had had at the boutique earlier that day. As her thoughts shifted, she recalled their first conversation at Bill's candy store. Now, for some reason, it felt rather strange for her to be alone with him.

Now, more than ever, she wanted to mention her cousin and the photograph that she had shown him back at the factory. Yet, for whatever reason, she could not find the courage to do even that. Somehow it felt to her as though Willy Wonka might misinterpret her words. Instead of speaking about that, she opted to change the subject. "I guess everyone is alright," she whispered more to herself than to him.

He nodded in simple acknowledgement of her words, but smiled gently as his next words emerged. "Yes, we're all fine, and you are going to get better as well."

Meagan took a deep breath, but instead of speaking, she allowed her eyes to close once again, her thoughts literally running rampant on her.

For his part, the chocolatier took a deep breath as he regarded the teenager. There was something on her mind, he could tell this simply through his quiet observations. After several moments had passed, he spoke, his voice breaking the silence of the room. "What are you thinking about, Meagan?"

"Nothing really, I just don't know what to say right now," she whispered truthfully.

"Why is that?" He asked.

Instead of speaking, she shook her head and closed her eyes. "I don't really know," she said, her voice cracking somewhat.

"Then perhaps you can tell me some more about that little girl whose picture you showed me back at the factory. I recall how you said that she was very brave, but from where I'm sitting, I would say that unbelievable courage and strength must run in your family. You were very brave as well. You know that, don't you?"

"I-it wasn't courage, Mr. Wonka," she confessed. Somewhere tears got caught in her eyes, thus stinging them. She shook her head as she tried to block out the events of that afternoon. "I was so s-scared."

"I know you were and it would seem to me that it's completely normal under these circumstances," he said softly. "There's nothing wrong with admitting it, Meagan."

"Maybe," she whispered more to herself than him. "E-everything just happened so fast. Charlie and I were coming inside to s-study. H-he said that you had this huge library that we could use since the public one had such slim pickings."

Willy nodded. "I see."

"W-when we c-came inside, I was sort of surprised that I was actually there. Between that and our talking about school stuff, we didn't notice that she was right behind us," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wonka…I really am…" As her voice drifted off, he could not help but notice the extent of emotion that she was under.

"…It's alright, Meagan," he said gently. "Try to calm down, sweetheart. You have no reason to apologize, you are not at fault for what happened today."

"But Charlie and I were so busy talking," she objected. "When everything happened, we were on our way to his family's suite. T-then he abruptly stopped when we heard something behind us. Charlie grabbed my hand and pulled me into this small room and quietly closed us in. He whispered to me that I should keep quiet and that he would notify you that someone had followed us inside. He seemed to know exactly what to do, and I was just terrified."

Willy nodded. That explained how everything had transpired when he and Tamara had returned from their shopping trip. "What happened next Meagan?"

"It was all my fault," she whispered.

"What happened?" Willy repeated trying to keep his voice laced in patience.

"I heard your voice out in the hallway. I didn't pay attention to what you were saying, I just wanted to get to where you were," she confessed.

"You came out into the hallway and the gun went off," he finished for her.

She nodded. "I'll never forget that moment as long as I live. It was so painful, and I wanted to cry, scream, or something, but I couldn't. That crazy woman was still there and she was freaking out. When she said that if she couldn't have you, no one could, I thought she was going to shoot everyone in the hallway."

As panic washed over her, Willy reached over and touched one side of her face. "Everything's going to be alright, just try to stay calm, Meagan. I know that what you saw and experienced was quite frightening. I honestly did not intend for you to get hurt because of all of this. I feel responsible."

She simply shrugged her shoulders as she leaned into his gentle touch. "T-the whole thing was like being trapped inside a movie or something, and now every time I try to think about something else, it all comes back to me. Whenever I close my eyes, I see these things playing out all over again and I can't make them stop, they just don't stop…"

"Shhh," he cajoled her gently. Looking down at her, he could see that she was trembling. Not knowing what to do, he continued speaking. "I know."

"You must think I'm a terrible coward," she whispered.

"No I don't," he said with an adamant shake of the head. "Let me give you something to think about. Look at the way you handled everything these past few days. I don't simply mean the events at the factory, but a lot of other things were happening at about the same time. Meagan, try and think about how you helped Charlie, and then faced the candy store rush. You were afraid during those times, yes, but you took control of your fears, and you reminded me that sometimes, that's what has to be done. Now, contrary to your having been afraid, you were really quite courageous."

"I couldn't have been," she whispered as the tears escaped from beneath her eyes and she closed them, the saltiness now stinging her eyes.

Willy took a deep breath as he gently brushed her tears away. "But you are, Meagan," he said gently.

She closed her eyes. "I was scared."

"I know, and if truth be known, I was too," he confessed.

"You were?" She asked.

"Yes, I was," he nodded. "For the longest time, I thought that it was wise for me to conceal my fears. Yet, over time, I learned that sometimes being afraid does not necessarily make us weak. Our strength lies in how we face the things that frighten us the most. Perhaps I recognize that strength in you because you were able to be something that I was not."

"But, I'm just a kid, I'm not that important," she whispered.

"Oh but you are. Don't ever make the mistake of thinking that you're less than a remarkable person just because of your age," he smiled gently at her as he continued speaking. "Do you know what I admire about you?"

"What?"

"I admire how you spoke of a little girl who likes me, when I wasn't certain if there was very much left to like. I didn't answer her letter, but I didn't do a lot of things because of 'fear'. I thought that if I seemed disinterested in others, then it would somehow protect me from getting hurt. It didn't really work simply because I ended up not just hurting myself, but other people as well.

"The truth is, I had no idea what to say to her or how to react to her kindness. All the children who wrote had this courage and strength that I sorely lacked. Then I met you and I saw a young lady who was more concerned for her cousin than she was for herself. When we first met, I could somehow tell that you wanted to talk about her instead of about general things. I realized after Belinda was arrested that the one thing you really wanted to share with me was what had been happening with your cousin. Is that right?"

She nodded, but looked shyly away. "I was afraid to. I didn't want you to think that I was just interested in your fame. I just didn't know what to do, and every time I saw you, you were so nice to me. Ever since we moved here, no one's been that nice to me."

"They haven't?" He asked.

"No, it's because I'm the new kid," she whispered. "Even that day when I met Charlie the first time, he thought I was just trying to use him to get to you, but I wasn't. I just wanted to have a friend because…because…I'm lonely and through it all, I could not stop thinking about Portia."

"Tell me about her," Willy said gently. "All that I know of her is that she has shown me that she is artistically talented."

"She is. I mean; she's always loved art class," she said. "She's ten-years-old now and just celebrated her birthday last week. It was all right before having the operation. All I've been able to think about is how she is back in Somerdale fighting cancer, and I'm stuck here alone."

"You're not alone, you do have friends who support and want to help you through the challenges you face," he said. "And for what it's worth, Portia does as well."

"I don't know if that's true anymore," she whispered brokenly. "I remember how she wrote that letter to you. Sometimes it feels as though everything happened only yesterday." As she spoke, she took a deep breath, as a sad smile now touched her lips. "It was right after I turned fourteen and several months before she got sick. It was all she had to hope for. She thinks the world of you and I wanted to do something that might make her happy."

"Is she still in the hospital?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I wanted to go see her this weekend, but now I can't. God, I hate living here, I just want to go home."

"Do you know what a very wise person once told me?" He asked. When she shook her head, he continued. "You know, in your heart that you'll never be far away from those you love. In fact, you're right there with them, because they're only a thought away. It was said that through our pain, we find strength, through our fears we find courage, and through our sorrow we find joy," He smiled gently as he reached for her uninjured hand. When she surrendered it, he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I came to realize all of that through the friends that I made during this difficult time.

"You see, I did make some unwise choices during these past few weeks, but through that, I also found friends. That is what helped me most of all," he paused. "Finding friends like you."

"Me? But, you don't really know me," she objected. "I mean; we worked together once, and then this afternoon we sort of gave some snobs a hard time..."

Willy leaned over and placed his finger against her lips, thus stopping the flow of words. When she stilled, he moved his hand away. "…We are friends, Meagan, but it would seem to me that if you feel otherwise, then perhaps I can change your mind. You see, you did try to help me out of a very difficult situation, and for that, I'm extremely grateful to you."

"But, I didn't really do anything," she whispered.

"Yes you did. You tried to protect Charlie and, in essence, you protected me as well," he said softly.

"It's not because you're famous, I-I just wanted to help," she whispered.

"I know, and you did help," he smiled. "So perhaps it might help if we were to start over."

"Start over?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said," he said, but as if to emphasize his point, he squeezed her hand a second time. "My name is Willy Wonka."

Taking his lead, she nodded. "I'm Meagan Lovejoy," she offered his hand a slight squeeze in return as she smiled up at him. "I'm really happy to know you, Mr. Wonka."

"You know, I would really prefer it if you were to call me Willy," he shook his head in negation. "I know that it seems a bit strange to you, but if we are going to be real friends, then we must start by using our real names. Don't you think?"

"You're the first adult I've ever spoken to who didn't want me to call them by their surname," she confessed. "I wasn't sure if it was even appropriate."

"Well, Charlie calls me 'Willy', and he's the same age as you," he said logically.

"But, he's your apprentice," she objected.

"Yes, and you are my friend," Willy said firmly. "Believe me, Meagan, I would really prefer it."

She looked at him. "OK, but it's going to take me awhile to get used to it."

Willy nodded. "That's quite alright." Instead of elaborating further on that point, he looked at her and spoke, this time changing the subject. "Since we're friends, can I tell you a secret?"

"A secret?" she asked. "What is it?"

"I'm going to go camping, but I've never been before," he said. "Do you think I'm strange for not having gone?"

Meagan shook her head. "No, it's actually a lot of fun. In fact, I think you'd like it."

"Well, to be completely honest, I am a little bit nervous about going," he said.

"Why?" She asked. "I mean that psycho woman is gone, right?"

"Yes, thankfully she is," he responded.

"Well, then you have nothing to worry about. You can do anything you want. You can have the time of your life."

"Have you ever been camping, Meagan?" He asked.

"Loads of times," she said. "It's fun, just as long as you don't have a stupid younger brother putting honey in your sleeping bag. My brother did that once, and I just about killed him."

"Really?" he smirked. "People do such things when they go camping?"

"Sometimes, but it's still fun," she said.

"It sounds like it," he said, but after several moments of silence passed between them, his blue eyes suddenly lit up and he looked at her with a conspirator's grin lining his face. "How would it be when you get out of here, that you come with us when we go camping?"

"That sounds great, but we'd probably have to ask my parents. I'm sure they'd say 'yes', though," she said. "But, since we're going to show you something new, maybe you could show us some thing that we've never seen before."

"Such as?" He asked with an almost knowing smirk. Something told him that that something was candy related.

"I don't know, maybe you could show me how you make caramel," she said as she closed her eyes, her expression taking on an almost dreamy essence. "That's my favorite."

"You don't get it very often, do you?" He asked.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Then we're going to have to do something to change that, aren't we?" He asked with a quirky smile.

They drifted into silence and she closed her eyes. After several moments, she opened them again and spoke his name. "Willy?"

"…What is it, Meagan?" He asked.

"Would you consider going to see my cousin?" she whispered. "It would mean so much to her, and to me."

"Of all the things that you could ask for yourself, you would ask me to do something for someone else," He said smiling. "You know, Charlie said that you were staring up at the factory the first time he really spoke with you. He couldn't really understand why, but I think now I can." He nodded his head. "I'd be happy to go see her."

"She'll be thrilled to meet you, I know she will," she smiled as the door opened as Charlie and Tamara silently came inside.

Willy turned and regarded the two of them before turning back around and responding to the teenager's words. "It's my pleasure, but I think we should probably go and let you get some rest. Charlie can bring you to the factory any time any time you like. You are not limited to visiting it for the library," he said with a wink. "Now, as soon as you get out of here, we can plan our trip to Somerdale, go and visit Portia, and then go camping."

Meagan nodded. "Before you go, would you come a little closer please?"

Willy smiled but did as the young girl requested. Seconds later, he felt her placing a soft kiss to his cheek. Surprised, he backed up and looked at her. "What was that for?"

"Jut because you're so nice," she smiled timidly.

"It takes one to know one." He said as he returned the gesture. "Now then, I think I have overstayed my welcome and we should go so that you can get some sleep."

"I might have a nightmare," she whispered.

"Perhaps, but I don't think you will," he smiled gently.

Meagan nodded as she watched him straighten out. "I'll see you later, won't I?"

Willy nodded. "Yes you will, now get some rest, and we'll see each other very soon." With a smile, he slowly left the room with Tamara slowly following him.

Once they were gone, she looked at Charlie. "Thank you for letting me meet him, Charlie," she whispered.

"No problem," he said as he looked down at her tired face. "Go to sleep now." He brushed his hand through her hair. "I'll stay with you until you're asleep."

Meagan nodded and closed her eyes.

As promised, Charlie stayed until she had fallen asleep. As soon as she was peacefully sleeping, he leaned over and kissed her before quietly slipping out of the room. Outside, he joined his mother, his mentor, and Tamara in the waiting room.


	65. Chapter 64: Truth in Fiction

_Hello and welcome to the latest installment to this story. There will be one more chapter to this and then the epilogue. This story will be continued, but under another title, and I will have to get started on that in the coming days. I want to also finish 'In Another's Eyes', so we will have to see what happens next._

_Take care and many thanks for reading and reviewing this. Thanks especially to Ya Ya and Stealth Phoenix who have been with this story for at least the last 20 or so chapters. It means a great deal to me that you are taking the time read and review this. My gratitude remains._

_Thanks and hope you enjoy. Thanks YaYa, problems found and corrected.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 64: Truth in Fiction**

An hour later, Willy, Tamara, Clara, and Charlie returned to the factory. During the hours of their absence, the Oompa Loompas set about to gathering data, and sectioning off the corridor where the confrontation had taken place. Although both Belinda and Neil were out of the way, they had managed to effectively set up, test and install all entrances and exits with special motion sensitive locks.

As they reached his office, it became clear that the chocolatier was quickly starting to feel his old self again. The knowledge that Belinda would no doubt be put into a special hospital had eased his troubled mind. Although he was sad about the state of the mentally ill woman, there was very little that he could have done to help her. As he had often affirmed, he was a chocolatier and not a psychologist.

As soon as the small group had reached the confectioner's office, they found the Oompa Loompas' full report on Willy's cluttered desk. At that moment, Charlie and Clara decided it best to make themselves scarce. Their excuse was that they wanted to return to their suite and relate the events of the afternoon to Charlie's grandparents. Taking this in stride, Willy and Tamara opted to use this time alone to talk. There was indeed a great deal that needed to be discussed.

The moment they were alone, Willy closed the door and walked over to where she was standing. "Where do you want me to take you, my dear?" He asked, his voice weak. He knew that it was now safe for her to go wherever it was she wanted, and he feared that since the traumas of the day were now behind them, she might possibly opt to leaving the factory.

When she did not respond, he took a deep breath. "I will take you wherever it is you wish to go."

Tamara shrugged her shoulders but after several seconds, she rested her head against his shoulder, thus indicating that she wanted nothing more than to stay with him.

Understanding this silent communication, Willy broke his contact with her so that he could cross the room and summon the Wonkavator. He figured that they could go back to his suite and decide what it was they would do next.

At that precise moment, Willy was more than determined to insure that she was no longer a guest at the factory. As far as he was concerned, she could call the place home if that was specifically what she wanted.

As the Wonkavator beeped, thus announcing its arrival, the couple stepping into the small enclosure and Willy closed the glass door. Seating himself inside, he pressed a button and they soon found themselves shooting across the factory towards the designated stop. Reaching it several moments later, the invention abruptly stopped as Willy got to his feet, and opened the door before leading her down the hallway and into the, now familiar, sitting room.

Once they were alone and the door had been firmly closed behind them, Willy turned towards her and drew her into his embrace. Wordlessly, he looked down at her and smiled smiled, his hold still tight. He waited for several moments as she raised her head and looked up at him, her eyes filled with all the love that she was capable of expressing.

Instead of immediately kissing her with all the passion and fervor that was coiled around his stomach, he leaned down and buried his face against her shoulder. Turning his head to a forty five degree angle, he pressed his lips against one side of her neck, the softness of her skin making him practically tremble as his emotional words filled the room.

"Oh Tamara," he whispered as he inhaled slowly, the gentle scent of her filling his nostrils and making him feel as though he was on the brink of an emotional collapse. He raised his hands slowly and felt his fingers raking steadily through her hair. "I was so afraid I was going to lose you," he whispered.

In lieu of a response, she raised her head, but allowed her body to relax in his arms, her face she moved until it was pressed against his chest, the softness of his shirt enfolding her and the scent of chocolate literally putting her in a trance.

The feelings she now carried were so overwhelming that she yearned to feel his lips once more pressed against her own. "Oh Willy," she murmured as she tried to inconspicuously move her head so that it was closer to his mouth. "It's finally over, she's finally gone. It feels like a long time coming." As she spoke, her hands found their way to the curly masses of his hair and she tried to carefully pull him closer.

As he felt this, he could feel his lips curling upward in a gentle smile. "Do you at least feel a little bit better, ma chérie?"

"More than just a little," she whispered, all the while pondering if he would understand her yearning. When he remained where he was, she continued speaking, but her voice seemed to wander about a little bit. "The nightmare is finally over."

He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he looked down at her. He could instinctively tell that she wanted him to kiss her, but he was not quite ready to comply. In fact, he was going to keep things as they were until she verbalized what she wanted. The teasing sense of Willy Wonka was now back and in full order. At that moment, he knew that Tamara had a great deal to learn about him.

Misinterpreting this, she bit down nervously on her lower lip and looked away.

Wordlessly, he captured her face with both hands and managed to seductively run his finger lightly against the affected area as a smirk danced across his lips. This simple touch made Tamara practically tremble in his arms and he could feel it.

When she did not respond verbally, he eventually broke the silence. "You know, you have no reason to do that anymore, my dear. Now, if you would like, I can always find you something a bit nicer to do with your lips." As these words hung lazily in the air, she could feel that he was now leaning over and allowing his lips to brush lightly against hers in a chaste kiss.

Tamara nearly burst with excitement. She wanted him to kiss her just as he had done the day when she had confessed to having fallen in love with him. Of course, he continued to tease her until she spoke, her soft words filling his healthy ear. "I know you can," she whispered as she felt his soft breath against one side of her face.

For his part, Willy simply retained his hold on her. He could tell that the tears that she was shedding were more or less stemming from relief as opposed to fear or anxiety. His expression shifted to that of a cockeyed smile as he stared down at her. She had been so brave through everything that had happened. It was so much so that he pondered how it was that she had been braver than him. "Tamara?" He whispered her name softly.

She smiled slightly and nodded as her arms snaked their way around him. Moments passed as they found their way to the top button of his flannel shirt, her fingers now working at undoing it.

Feeling this, he looked down at her, his gaze consumed in a question. "Are you certain?" He whispered softly.

Tamara allowed her finger to sink beneath the top of his shirt, the softness of his skin meeting her expectant fingers. "No one else matters to me, Willy and I know that I don't have to be afraid anymore, because I know you mean the world to me." She raised her head as her hands moved from his shirt to his face. "I love you and I want you to know that my heart is yours."

He nodded his head all the while knowing what would come next. Her hands returned to the buttons of his shirt, and he felt his body unconsciously responding to her actions. Wordlessly, he picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the living room and into the bedroom.

Once they had reached the room, he sat down on the edge of the bed with her still wrapped in his arms. This seemed as though it was a repeat of the day before, but this time, instead of her backing away from him, Tamara remained where she was. She could feel his every movement and as his hands captured her chin, she silently anticipated his kiss.

As his lips captured hers, she automatically allowed herself to open to him and within seconds the overwhelming feeling of bliss had captured them both.

* * *

An hour later, Willy crawled off the bed and smiled down at her. It was clear that she was still exhausted from the stresses of the day, but instead of waking her, he allowed her to remain where she was, asleep amidst the warmth and comfort that surrounded her.

Leaving her to rest on the bed, he disappeared into the bathroom in order to shower and wash his hair. Finishing, he dressed in his underclothes and robe before removing the towel and combing down his hair. Moments later, he was able to reemerge from the warmth of the room to find that she was now awake and crawling off the bed. He smiled when he saw her clothing scattered along the floor and the outermost blanket wrapped snugly around her torso.

He smiled as he regarded her. "I took the liberty of putting the things I thought you might need in the bathroom."

She nodded gratefully as she retreated from the room.

Willy watched as she left, the door closing behind her. Diverting his attention, he opened one of the cabinets and began to dig around inside. From it, he pulled out a crisp white shirt. Along with that, he retrieved a floral print vest as well as his favorite purple waistcoat. Putting them on, he went over to the mirror and began to inspect himself in the mirror.

Several moments later, he watched as Tamara emerging from the bathroom. She was dressed in the purple colored dress from the boutique. Her blonde hair was still damp from the washing and it was plastered down over either side of her face. Willy took in her appearance and smiled when he realized how the bruise that was around her eye had faded considerably and her green eyes were filled with joy.

"How do I look?" She asked him shyly, her voice literally touching his senses and her hand reaching out to grasp hold of his.

"Positively radiant," he said smiling as he took her hand and folded it gently against his arm.

"My hair's still wet, though," she murmured softly. "I should probably dry it or something."

"Don't worry about that, we're going to be eating dinner inside tonight and there's no risk of you catching cold," he said smiling. "Now then, do you think I look alright?"

She raised her head and looked at him as a smile touched her lips. "My grandmother would love it," she whispered.

"But do you?" He asked.

"Oh Willy, what's not to love? I mean; you're the most handsome man in all the world," she whispered as she snagged a piece of lint from off his waistcoat and flicked it away. "But, then again, I'm partial."

"Well, I for one love your brand of partiality," he chuckled as led her from the room and they stepped out into the sitting room.

When she saw that the room was the same as it had been before, she looked up at him. "Willy, where are we eating?"

"It's a surprise, but we have to take the Wonkavator to get there, otherwise it would take us close to forever by foot," he said smiling. "Can you handle it this time?"

She nodded as they left his suite and stepped out into the hallway that separated it from the Wonkavator stop. "I think so."

"Ahh, it's still here, how convenient," he chuckled as he pressed the button and the doors slid open. Wordlessly, Tamara found herself once more being led into the small compartment. Sitting down next to him, she watched as Willy pressed the button for the Chocolate Room and with his arm still around her, she suddenly felt the invention take off.

Instead of being afraid, she leaned into his hold, as they shot through the factory, going somewhere that was new to her. The lights and colors flashed by until they entered what looked to be a dark cave or tunnel. As she turned towards him, she realized that there was no way she could see or silently inquire as to what was happening. All that she could do was remain still and wait for light to once more fill the confines of the Wonkavator. Tamara rested her head against his chest, her hand still held tightly in his hold.

Seconds later, the Wonkavator shot out of a tunnel and straight into the heart of his chocolate paradise. As the bright colors greeted her, Tamara's eyes widened as she took in the vastness of color in absolute delight. "Oh Willy, it's positively beautiful," she whispered all the while trying to take in everything at once.

She knew that she had fallen in love with the man, but now she was seeing the magic that literally consumed his world. It was perhaps that same magic that Belinda had fantasized about. Of course, discussing her former roommate's fate was the last thing that Tamara even wanted to do. For now, the secrets of this magical factory had somehow become tangible to her. "It's beautiful," she repeated, her voice literally stuck in her throat.

"I'm so glad you like it," he said. "This is called the Chocolate Room and this is where we are going to have dinner."

"It's like being in paradise," she whispered in absolute awe as they floated over the length of the river that snaked its way through the room. "You even have a waterfall."

"Yes, but it's not water," he said in a teasing tone of voice. "It's chocolate."

"It's beautiful," she repeated as her ecstatic eyes took in every last corner of the room. By the time the Wonkavator had landed, she felt herself literally encompassed in the sweetness that filled the air.

Willy stood up and retrieved his cane before reaching for her hand. When she offered it, he opened the door and they stepped out of the Wonkavator and onto the candy path. With one of his hands now resting on her shoulder, he spoke, his voice only a fraction louder than the sounds of the waterfall as it splashed in the distance. "I've been wanting to show you this room ever since that morning you had taken ill."

Instead of speaking, she turned around to face him, her hand reaching up and resting on top of his. "You did?"

"Yes," he nodded. "It's the greatest thing I have ever made.

"It's wonderful, Willy," she whispered, the appreciation evident in her voice. "You have shared more magic with me than I even thought existed."

He smiled, his eyes now shining with happiness as he pulled her closer to him, his hands brushing across her face. He could feel the tears as they made their trek down her face. "Why do you cry?" He whispered.

Tamara shook her head as she felt the tears stinging her eyes. It was clear that she had found so much in the arms of this eccentric and magical man. She had never imagined that when he found her outside the walls of the factory that over time, she would fall so helplessly in love with him.

Yet, she had and now there was simply no stopping either of them.


	66. Chapter 65: The Butterfly

_Hello again and welcome to the final chapter of this story. After this there will be an epilogue and then this one is done. I'm really happy that all of you were along for this particular ride. I started this story because I had an experience with someone who totally creeped me out back at the beginning of the year. I started writing this because I felt as though I was being stalked, and this turned into a story with well over 200 pages…Amazing._

_Thanks to all my reviewers who came along for the ride. Whether you were here for part of the trip or all of it, it means a lot to me that you took the time to keep me posted on how this was shaping up._

_Take care, and I'll hopefully see you for the sequel, continuation…whatever._

_Happy reading, YaYa, thanks for finding these problem spots. It's been corrected.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 65: The Butterfly**

After several moments had passed, Tamara raised her head and looked into the depths of Willy Wonka's eyes. Try as she might, she could not stop herself from biting down on her lower lip.

The chocolatier smiled, but slowly reached over and lightly touched her lip, thus causing her to release it. As soon as she had released it, a light blush tinged her cheeks and she smiled shyly up at him.

Seconds later, he began to speak, his voice soft. "I don't know how I would have gotten through this past week without you. Your bravery gave me so much courage to try and overcome the issues that we faced. You said that I gave you strength, but when I faced Belinda, I somehow knew that the last thing I ever wanted was to give her another chance to hurt you. I was more afraid for you than I was for myself."

"That's funny," she whispered. "I don't mean 'ha-ha funny', but strange, because I was more afraid for you." Instead of speaking further, she remained in the sanctuary of his embrace. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to be ensnared by the soft hands now running gently through her hair.

"If you have no objections, I would like to talk to Bill about you dividing your time between working at his shop and helping me here. You have a knack with the paperwork, and I personally hate it," he smirked. "But before we do any of that, I think we ought to plan our camping trip with Charlie and Meagan."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. "You really do want me around here, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yes I do, that is if you have no objections to staying. I realize that now you no longer face any danger and you could always return to your old apartment. Would you want to do that, Tamara?"

She shook her head. "No, there's nothing left for me there except a horde of bad memories and a bunch of destroyed possessions. Willy, if you had seen that place, you would have been shocked."

"You had said that it was a mess, but was that an understatement?" He asked.

She nodded. "Yes, and besides that, everything left in there belongs to Belinda."

Willy took a deep breath as he clasped both hands over the top of his cane. He looked down at the object for several seconds before raising it and looking at her as his next question emerged. "What is it that you really want to do?"

"You mean; if I could do anything I wanted?" She asked.

"Yes. Would you opt to going back to Somerdale?" He asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I wouldn't do that. I suppose I should ask about that other place and see if I can move in there, but you probably know that's this option is not a very cheap one. I would not only have to pay the rent, but I would also need furniture and that costs a great deal of money. Right now, I don't really know what is more scary, admitting that I want to stay here with you and not make it sound as though I am using you, or getting out and trying to start all over again."

Willy looked at her. "It sounds like a very difficult choice to me." Taking a deep breath, he realized that it would have been easy for him to simply take care of her. Yet, he knew that she wanted to earn her own keep, and find her own way in the world, and he would not deny her that. Yet, he had grown accustomed to having her around, and there was very little he could do except to voice those wishes. "Let me ask you something, if money was no object, and you could decide what to do not based on what you have or haven't got, but based entirely on your desire or wishes, then what would you do?"

Tamara lowered her head. "I'd stay here," she whispered, her voice barely audible. After several moments, she raised her head, all the while wondering if he had even heard what she had said.

"Yes, you could stay here and make the factory your home," he said nodding. "You are welcome here, Tamara."

"I'd like that, but…" her voice trailed.

"But, what?" He asked.

"I just don't want to be in your way," she confessed. "I mean; I know that your work is so important, not just to you, but also to Charlie."

Leaning over he, rested the side of his hand against her cheek. As she raised her head, she could see that he was shaking his head. "You would never be in my way. Tamara, I love you, and when we one day do get married, then it would seem awfully odd for us to live in separate places." He smiled as his next words emerged. "That would be strange, even by my standards. Don't you think so?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Alright then, tell me what it is you really want," he implored her softly.

"I want to work at Bill's shop," she said.

"That's good, because he'd kill me if I were take you away from there," Willy smiled as they approached the small table that was placed in the corner of the staircase that overlooked the room. "I think he likes having you in the shop, and I know that you're fond of working there as well." He pulled out a chair and waited for her to sit down.

Once she was seated, he looked across the small table at her. "Tamara, just be a little selfish, and tell me what it is you really want."

She looked at him as he sat down across from her. "What I want?"

He nodded. "Yes, what you want. You know, you already have my heart, dear lady, what more can I offer? Just tell me and don't be afraid."

Instead of immediately speaking, she raised her head and looked into his eyes. "You've given me so much already, I feel guilty asking for more."

"Just ask," he said simply.

"I just want to be here and feel as though I am at home and not just a guest in someone else's home."

"Then you have spent your last night in the Rainbow Light Room. After we eat, we can go and move all of your things from that room to my suite, or anywhere else in this factory you would like to be. I have many rooms here, you could take your pick among the lot. You could live in the Chocolate Room if you wanted," he said smiling gently at her. "No matter where you want to be, I'll help you arrange it. You could even come and live with me."

"With you?" She asked.

"Of course," he said as he got to his feet and went around the table and pulled her up and into his arms. After several minutes he helped her to sit back down.

Once they were both seated, he looked at her. "My grandfather used to tell me when I was just a boy, that when I found love, that I should hold tightly to it. At the same instance, he said that I should allow the one whom I love to grow and spread their own wings. It made an awful lot of sense to me and perhaps today, they mean a great deal more to me then they did in the past." He took a deep breath. "Maybe I am holding far too tightly to you, I don't really know. I've never been in love before and this is all very new to me. For what it's worth, I never even thought about the possibility that I could ever fall in love, much less ask someone to marry me."

"It was so beautiful, Willy," she said as she watched him reaching for a bottle of champagne and started to remove the aluminum top that covered it. She watched as he expertly opened the bottle and then placed it back inside the silver tin that it had been resting in and allowed it to breathe.

Several moments of silence passed between them as he looked at her from the other side of the table, his blue eyes laced in intensity. "I don't think it was anything I might have said or done. In fact, I think that the one who emanated what true love and courage is, has always been from you. It has been that way from the very start." He reached for one of the glasses and poured some into the first glass and placed it in front of her before pouring himself some.

Returning the bottle to the canister, he looked over at her. Such a vision in purple, he thought as he reached for his glass. "What should we toast, my love?" He asked.

"Our future," she said smiling.

"Then here's to our future together," he said and tapped his glass against hers before taking a sip. Returning the glass on the table, he took a deep breath. "I do suppose that everything that has happened between us has come about rather quickly. You and I met, fell in love, and then we got engaged in only a week's time. I know that we have faced challenges together that would shake most people to their very foundation. Through all of this, I have come to the realization that I cannot imagine my life without you, and I don't even want to. I want us to be together and I was not really certain if that was what you wanted, that's why I asked. For the longest time, I feared that these words might scare you."

"No, they don't," she whispered. "Any woman would consider herself deeply blessed and very lucky to have someone like you. I knew from the first time you kissed me that I could never truly leave this place. I just didn't believe that you might feel the very same way I did. I guess I figured that I should try and make it on my own, just in case my feelings were one-sided."

Willy took a deep breath, his eyes closing only briefly, as he touched an object that rested in his pocket. Without thinking, he removed it.

"There's something I want to give to you," he said, his voice light.

"Willy; you've already given me more than anyone ever could." She glanced down briefly at the dress she wore, the purple color of the fabric soft against her skin. She smiled slightly as she traced her finger along the neckline of the dress and raised her head to look at him.

"I want to give you something that is of more sentimental value to me than anything else," he said as he handed a small box to her.

As she accepted the object, her gaze came to rest on the object that she now held. It was a small square, the silk fabric that covered it something between brown and red, but more or less red. The designs that covered it looked remarkably like Asian styled flowers. A small butterfly was in the center and this was sewn into the fabric as turquoise and lavender colored wings. Instead of opening it, she stared at the intricacies that adorned it. "It's beautiful."

"You truly see that beauty can lie in the most simple things in the world. The sight of a candy bar makes you smile. Even taking a look around this room, you are content, yet you have not tasted a single confection. I think this old-fashioned box would have been enough to give you a reason to smile, but you have yet to look inside," he whispered. He reached across the table and took her hand gently in his.

Tamara lowered her head, but smiled despite the butterflies that now fluttered about in her stomach. "I guess it goes to show that I'm really a very simple person. My wishes and needs are not vast."

"I noticed that when you asked me to make up for my horrific actions by bringing you a Marshmallow Round. There was something unassuming and very human in your manner that somehow captured me from the very start. You could have asked me for anything in the world and I would have done what I could to retrieve it for you. Yet, you requested of me something that was very small and simple. It was touching and very special to me."

As these words filled the room, she looked over at him, but reached down and opened the small box. Instead of beholding a ring; what she found was a simple necklace in the shape of a butterfly. "It's beautiful," she whispered appreciatively as she took in the silver piece of jewelry.

After several seconds, he reached over and carefully pulled it out of the box.

"It is not worth a great deal, but it did belong to my mother," he said as stood up and rounded the table so as to affix the necklace around her neck. "She was a very simple sort of person, and did not care for frivolous things. Somehow, looking at this necklace, instead of making me remember her or her life, now it reminds me of you."

"Me?" She tipped her head up so that she could look into his eyes.

"Yes," he nodded. "You see, my mother wore this necklace all the time. It somehow became a very sentimental thing for her to have. When she became sick and just before she died, she pulled me aside and pressed this box into my hand. She looked at me and said 'Willy, don't ever give this box to your father. Hold onto it and give it someone who captures all the good that you find in living, all the joy that can fill your heart.' She went on to affirm that one day I would go out into the world and find someone who was deserving of its beauty. She made me promise that I would hold onto it until that moment came. I carried it in my pocket all these years, through the times that bred challenges and hardships. It was here when I devised the Golden Tickets, and it was in my pocket the day I welcomed the Golden Ticket winners and brought them into this very room. I waited all this time and went through all these experiences until I could find a person who would appreciate its simplicity as much as she did."

Tamara touched the delicate wings of the necklace as tears caught in her eyes. "But Willy, I have nothing to give to you."

"You mustn't give anything except your love, Tamara," he said as he pulled her into his arms and held tightly to her. "I want nothing from you except what you have already freely given."

She buried her face against him, her arms winding around him. "I love you, Willy," she whispered for what felt like the umpteenth time. Silently, she buried her face against the softness of his purple colored jacket, its texture now cradling her face. When she felt his arms once again wrapping around her, she felt nothing short of completeness.

The nightmare was finally over, and now marked the beginning of a dream.


	67. Epilogue: Another Life

_This is it, the last bit of this story. Since there is still issues that need to be covered, that will be done in the next story. 'Coming Around the Mountain', which I will probably start posting in about a month or so._

_There are other stories that I want to finish up before I get really involved in another. Again thanks to my reviewers for their continued support and hope that you will be back for the next story._

_Watch this space and many thanks!_

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**Epilogue: Another Life**

About twenty minutes later, Tamara wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin before standing up. "That was wonderful," she whispered as Willy got to his feet as well and came over to her before offering his arm to her.

"We should perhaps find something for dessert before heading back," he said. In the depths of his eyes, he carried a special sort of mystery that was strange, but also appealing.

Nodding, she reached towards his offered arm, her eyes laced in joy. "After such a meal as that, I don't know if I even have room for dessert," she whispered. "Maybe you can show me around this wonderful room and I might find something."

He nodded and started to lead her down the stairs and into the depths of the Chocolate Room. As they walked along the path, she allowed her head to come to rest against his shoulder. He smiled as he looked down at her. "What are you thinking about?" He asked softly.

Tamara raised her head so that she could look at him. "I don't know if I can even find the words to describe it," she whispered as she lightly touched the necklace that he had given to her. "This is the most beautiful thing that I have ever been given and this room is the most beautiful place in the world. Now, I'm overusing the word 'beautiful' aren't I?" she whispered.

"Maybe just a little, but if you need some help, there's always stunning, attractive, or lovely," he said. As if on cue, he turned to face her, his eyes no longer on the room, instead they were staring straight down at her. As she began to giggle softly, he continued speaking, his blue eyes literally dancing in merriment. "I'm a regular lexicon once you get to know me."

"Don't I know you already, Willy?" She asked softly. "Or is there still some magic left in you that I have yet to discover?"

"You'll see it all, and infinitely more," he said as he spun her around the room.

"You know, when Bill said that this was the most magical place in the world, he knew what he was talking about. Yet, I think there is more magic in you, Willy Wonka, than anyone could even begin to imagine."

Willy smiled. "Do you remember when you asked if you could really know me?"

"It was when all these things were happening, and I got scared," she whispered as she looked around the large room.

"Do you feel as though you know me now?" He asked softly as he seductively leaned down and softly kissed her neck.

"Yes, I do," she said, as a soft giggle escaped from between her lips.

He took her face in is his hands and tipped it up so that she was looking deeply into his blue eyes. "I never wanted to be a stranger to you, Tamara," he began, his voice a soft whisper. "I know that you were afraid of me at first, but today, you know far more about me than just about any other person."

Instead of speaking, she immediately could feel his touch making her knees turn to jelly. As she felt this sensation encompass her, she started to sag against his hold.

In response to this, he scooped her up into his arms and looked down at her, mischief and desire meshed in his gaze. "I always seem to carry you somewhere, don't I?" He asked with a chuckle as he walked across the path to a patch of grass that was near the banks of the river. Her body was light as a feather as she allowed her face to press against his chest. Beneath the fabric, she could hear the soft sounds of his heart beating in her ear.

Seconds later, she could feel the sounds of his lowering her to the ground, her body being hugged by the soft edible grass of the Chocolate Room.

He smiled as he stared down at her before plucking a blade of the grass. With the finger of his other hand, he touched her lips and felt them parting beneath the pressure the softness of her tongue as it raked across his fingers. Seconds passed and with his free hand, he placed the blade on her tongue, smiled, and waited.

Feeling her entire mouth began to tingle from the unique, yet familiar, taste that filled her, she looked up at him. ""That tastes like – like coconut," she whispered.

He smiled and nodded as he moved his hand away and plucked a second blade before putting it in his mouth.

"It's not that you don't taste good, Tamara," he said with a quirky smile. "Just wait, there's a secret to the grass that you don't know yet." He leaned in to kiss her, the similar taste filling her as his tongue invaded her mouth. After a second, he withdrew and waited as a new taste sensation emerged.

When it did, he smiled down at her as a bright and happy smile as it spread across her face. "It's not coconut at all – it's peppermint."

Willy smiled coyly but nodded. "I thought that you might enjoy an after-dinner mint."

She smiled as the taste continued to linger. "It's wonderful."

Willy smiled, but leaned towards her and captured her lips once again. As they continued to kiss, Tamara realized that with each kiss, the peppermint taste became better and better. Soon her desires overwhelmed her and she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him even closer.

After several moments had passed, the lights in the Chocolate Room dimmed. As the couple laid back against the edible grass, Tamara realized how the softness of his touch made her forget everything painful and sad that had existed in her life. All that mattered to her was the loving attention that he was lavishing her with.

Instead of sadness or fear, her life was now encompassed in love.

They were now able to freely share of themselves in ways that no one could ever know or anticipate.

Looking into the eyes of Tamara Jenkins, Willy Wonka smiled.

No matter what the future would bring, he would always know that she had come into his life and with three simple words, had changed it completely.

* * *

_To be continued…_

_Please let me know if you enjoyed this...it was a very time consuming project. Thanks!_


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